How to Be a Great Boyfriend
by PiperElizabethMcLean
Summary: Maximum "Max" Martinez teaches her best friend Fang how to become the best boyfriend there is to impress Lissa, his longtime crush. But when Max and Fang start to hang out more, will feelings for her spark? And will Max's lessons on how to kiss, touch, dance, and romance make Fang fall for the wrong girl? And what about the weird love hexagon that's starting to form? T, AU, PEM
1. Chapter 1

_Summary: Maximum "Max" Martinez teaches her best friend Fang how to become the best boyfriend there is to impress Lissa, his longtime crush. But when Max and Fang start to hang out more, will feelings for her spark? And will Max's lessons on how to kiss, touch, dance, and romance make Fang fall for the wrong girl? AU, Fax_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride, or the characters within the amazing story. James Patterson is the author/owner of the book and characters. I only own the plot for this story!**

**Warning: Characters may be OOC at times. That's just my style- but I try to keep them in-character most of the time, but with an AU story, it's bound to be a bit OOC! **

**PiperElizabethMcLean**

How to Be a Great Boyfriend

Max

Chapter 1

Lissa Grey

"I'll take a black coffee with a medium sugar cookie," I told the lady behind the counter at Starbucks. Starbucks was my favorite place to get snacks, and it's also where I hung out after school. But today wasn't a school day- it was actually a month before school started, and it was just starting to feel like a great summer.

"Wow, Max," A familiar voice said from behind me, "I'm surprised you didn't load up on chocolate chip cookies. I mean, really, just a regular old sugar cookie? Is something up?"

"Nick," I whirled to see my all-time best friend, dressed in his usual outfit of black. "You came!"

"Nick?" He cocked an eyebrow, "We're getting all formal now? And of course I came. Why wouldn't I have?"

"Sorry," I said, paying the lady, "Come on, let's sit."

We made our way to a booth where I pressed myself into the corner, stretching my feet out into the seat. "So, what's new?"

Nick Ride had been my friend since we were in elementary school. Now that we were going to be seniors, I'd pretty much say that was about ten years ago. Nick had had his nickname since he was in second grade, when he brought a snake into the classroom on his first day of school and asked his teacher for a pair of scissors so he could cut the fangs out of its mouth. Of course, he got sent to the principal's office, and the garden snake was put in a tank and used as a classroom pet. I was in that class and I remembered seeing Fang sitting outside the principal's office, all pale-faced and small. I couldn't ever remember his name, so I called him Fang-boy, which turned out to be Fang.

Now as he sat across from me in the boot, I could see the similarities and the differences. He had grown way taller since then, his olive skin stretching to fit his 6"1 frame. He had straight, white teeth that I had always been jealous of. I had gone through braces in middle school while he got the better end of the deal and was all natural. While I had been skinny and tiny, barely having a chest in the seventh grade, Fang had been working out with the football team.

He was kicked off in his freshman year when he had gotten too many demerits for missing practices- sleeping was his excuse. Fang could sleep all day if he wanted to and would if his mother would let him. I had never been one for sports, but I could always pick up a good book and be devoured in its words.

As young teenagers, we'd sit around my room and read comic books until it was time for a meal. Then, we'd pig out- me never being able to eat enough to gain much weight. Fang, however, worked out regularly with his twin, Iggy.

Iggy hadn't joined our friendship until he himself was kicked off the football team, but for a different reason. It was our sophomore year when he started hanging around after breaking his leg. He missed too much weight-lifting hours for physical therapy, and never tried to re-join the team.

While neither of us dated much, it was for different reasons. Me not being able to pick a guy- hey, all the books I read just made me search for higher qualities- and Fang because he was always too shy.

He'd deny it if you asked, but he really was shy in his own way. Fang could talk to anybody, no doubt about it, and he could fall for anybody, too. But after he fell, it became hard for him to actually talk to the girl again. That's when I came in- starting the conversation and having Fang join in half way.

Not that Fang couldn't get a girl by himself. With his dark, smutty, pitch-black hair and dark luminous eyes, he could easily look at a girl and she'd be dead-set.

If looks were everything to you, he'd be perfect. But behind his pretty walls, Fang was not talkative, unless he was really into a conversation. He'd prefer to talk to somebody he knew well than a stranger, and even if he tried not to show it, he was sensitive about some things. All guys were if you ever really took the time to notice, but Fang had his own way of being so.

"Max," Fang said, breaking me out of my thoughts, "Look."

I followed his gaze, my eyes locking on what he was talking about. Or should I say _who_.

She had long, red hair that curled artificially down her back. I had always been jealous of how some girls could curl their hair; mine was always board-straight and boring, unless I used a special, expensive kind of shampoo that my mom wouldn't refill as often as I'd like her to. The girl's eyelashes were long- I could tell from two booths away because of the way her head turned. She had tiny dots of freckles and perfectly sculpted lips. Her eyes were on a book in her lap.

"Lissa," Fang said under his breath.

"L-Lissa Grey," I asked, doing a double take. The girl had had a serious makeover this summer, her face seeming somewhat thinner and less chunky.

"Max, she's the one I was talking about," Fang whispered, his eyes meeting mine with a sort of anxiety. "You know what I'm talking about, right?"

I did know. He had called me all summer from his grandparent's house one town over every night talking about some girl he had met while shopping with his aunt and grandma. Of course, he had never mentioned it was Lissa Grey.

"You never told me it was Lissa Grey," I said, startling myself with feeling the anger that was starting to boil up inside me. Why was I freaking out? It didn't matter who he dated; I was used to him talking about girls. "You know the one from _school_."

"I've liked her for a while now," Fang shrugged, "I just didn't think I could do anything about it."

"And you still can't," I laughed, almost too loud, "You won't go ask for her number."

I knew challenging him was not the answer. That would only lead him to want to accept the challenge, and by doing so, he'd fight any obstacle in his way. He was determined and stubborn.

"I would," He said carefully, "I'm probably going to now."

"Probably going to what?" Somebody said from the head of the table. Fang's head swiveled about the time as mine did, and I'd like to imagine us both locking eyes on Iggy at the same time. He wore the opposite of Fang; all white, except for the navy draw-string gym shorts and black sneakers. His hair was soft, strawberry blonde, more blonde than strawberry, to think of it. He seemed to be the complete opposite of his twin, and really, they were in every way. Iggy looked more of an angel, and Fang looked more of an evil fairytale sorcerer. At least, that's how I always imagined it.

"Fang's probably going to go get Lissa's number," I said, amused. Iggy slid into the booth beside me, his hand sliding on my knee as he settled himself. I moved my legs so that my feet were on the ground.

Iggy looked down at his hand and blushed. His red cheeks stood out amongst his light skin, so I could always tell. Fang seemed to notice Iggy's movement and smirked.

"Hitting up on Max, are you?" He laughed, "How low, dude."

_Low…_I tried to hide my anger. What was so _low _about me? I was a girl, I had girl… parts. So how was it _low _to flirt with me? Not that I had a thing for Iggy, but it still hurt that Fang thought it was low to flirt with me.

"I accidently touched her leg," Iggy muttered, "I didn't mean to. I had to steady myself-"

"Yeah, sure," Fang smirked. "Smooth."

"Let's see how smooth you are when you're asking for her number," I challenged him. "Go on."

Fang hesitated before slipping out of the booth. Iggy and I watched as he sauntered over to the redhead.

"I really didn't mean to touch your leg like that," Iggy said, "I was just steadying myself…"

"I know," I sighed, "Ignore Fang, you know he likes to mess around."

"I know it; I just didn't want you to feel like I was… intruding."

I laughed at this, wondering what it would be like to see Iggy actually intruding on someone. When the thought never came to mind, I gave up and watched Fang more closely.

He had sat across from Lissa in the empty chair at her table. She had put her book away she was reading on and was leaning across the table, listening to Fang say something. I could tell from our booth that he was trying to find something interesting to say, and the red tint on his cheeks told me he was embarrassed.

I remembered her from my old ballet classes, the ones my mom made me take as a kid. She used to be so flawless and graceful, and I'd be the one who'd end up on my butt on the floor. She was also a cheerleader, and the president of the student body. She's the one I had always been jealous of, but was too ashamed to admit to Iggy or Fang. Of course, she had many admirers, and most of the girls were envious of her. The rest outright hated her for her looks.

But she wasn't all that special; Lissa didn't make too good grades, I could tell by the tutoring sessions she had to take after school. She never got into advanced classes, either, so she couldn't be as smart as everyone said she was.

"Looks like the prince is screwing up," Iggy laughed. "He'll be back in a few. I'm going to get a cookie- want a refill or something?"

"Yeah," I said, sliding my cup towards him, "Black-"

"I know what you drink," Iggy laughed, "Remember I'm one of your best friends."

Fang was back before Iggy was, sliding into the booth with a look of exasperation on his face. I saw Lissa leaving the coffee shop.

"What happened," I asked, "Did you scare her off?"

"No," He scowled, "She didn't have her phone today."

I laughed, "Fang, you just got rejected."

"Rejected," His face fell.

"She lied to you. Look- she's out there on the phone now." I said, turning to my window. Lissa was talking into a phone, looking out towards the streets.

"I'm such a loser," He moaned, throwing his arm over his eye. "Why… why me, why can't it be Iggy whose the loser?"

"He is a loser," I said as Iggy made his way back. "He just doesn't show it. Besides, you're not a loser. You just don't know how to ask for her number properly."

"How do I ask?" Fang asked.

"Well, you can't do it creeper-ish. You were way too nervous, and the poor girl barely knew you." I said, taking my coffee from Iggy as he got back in the booth. "You just have a normal conversation first, maybe you could ask her what she goes to your grandma's city for. Because I know you said you've seen her there on several occasions."

"So I ask her why she's been in my grandma's town because I've seen her a lot."

"No," I said, "You'll sound stalker-ish. Just say you saw her once at the mall, or whatever, and ask her what she was doing in your neck of the woods."

"It sounds like a better plan than you had," Iggy said.

"Shut up, Iggy," Fang sighed. "I guess I have nothing to lose."

"I've got to be at home, my sister is flying in from England this afternoon. She's supposed to be staying until I go back to school while Mom's away for a business trip."

"Ella's a sophomore in college, right?" Fang asked, "I haven't seen her in ages."

"At least you've seen her in person," Iggy said, "I've never met her, remember?"

"That's because you were never around the same time she was," I ruffled his hair. "See you guys later."

"Bye," Fang said as I passed him. I ruffled his hair, too.

**Hope you liked the first chapter! Istarted this new thing where I don't leave huge Author's notes, just little tid-bits. Anyways; this probably will be a short(Er)wiff than I normally do, but more than 15 chapters.**

**I know somebody sai dbefore that this was like another story...? But no, I haven't read any like this before, and I'm basically putting my own spin on things.**

**R&R, should I continue?**


	2. Chapter 2

Fang

Chapter 2

I bet you

"I've got to go by the library," Iggy said, standing up from the table at Starbucks. "Care to come?"

"Not really," I waved it off, "I'd rather not."

"Suite yourself," He shrugged, "Tell Mom I'll be home by six."

I looked at my phone's time. "It's four thirty. You're planning on only spending an hour there?"

"They close at six." Iggy reminded me. "Hey, do you have five bucks?"

"I don't," I said, standing up and picking up Max's cookie wrapper she had so kindly left. "You took my last cash this morning."

"I did, didn't I?" Iggy said thoughtfully. "Well, see you tonight."

"Gunther-Hagen will be at the house tonight," I rolled my eyes; "I'd stay away if I were you."

"What's Chris coming for?" Iggy asked. Chris Gunther-Hagen was our mom's boyfriend, who had a son our age. Not only did Dylan- the son- get on our nerves, but he liked Max. He made it obvious, too, and even if she couldn't see it, we all could.

"Dinner apparently," I answered. "Look, I'd better get going. I've got things to do."

"Things better than hanging out with me?" Iggy pretended to pout.

"Definitely," I smirked.

/\/\AXI/\/\U/\/\

I pulled open my jeep's door, sliding in after it. My phone buzzed beside me.

It was Max, of course, saying she wanted to hang out tonight.

Pulling out of Starbucks, I started to drive to my apartment. Dylan and Chris were probably already there, and Mom would be freaking out that I wasn't. I'm the only one who could really cook a decent meal in the family, besides Iggy, who was the master at eggs. Therefore, I'd be the one who had to make spaghetti tonight.

Finally getting to the apartment, I opened the door to find my suspicions right.

With dark, brown hair and the "killer looks" everyone claimed he had, Dylan was sprawled out on our armchair, one leg over the arm rest, the other on the floor. He flipped through the channels with a vacant expression on his face.

"Mom, I'm home," I called, tossing my keys on the table by the door. I proceeded to walk into the living room. I hit his foot so that it landed on the ground by his other one.

"Is your friend here?" Dylan asked swiftly, sitting up straight. "Max?"

"No," I said, wrinkling my nose at him. "Where's my mom?"

"She went to rent a movie," Dylan wiggled his eyebrows. "They have plans to watch it in her room."

"Ugh," I groaned, "So I'm stuck with you?"

"Hey," He held up his palms, "Trust me. I'd love to be when actual cool people right now."

I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Max, telling her to come hang out here tonight. I knew she meant earlier to see if I could go to her house, but Mom wouldn't let me leave Dylan.

"Where'd Igmo go?" Dylan smirked at his own invention.

"_Iggy _went to the library." I sat down across from him on the couch. He resumed his position of sprawling out.

"What are you watching, anyways?" I asked, squinting at the screen. "Is that family guy, or something?"

"No," He sneered, "I'm not a stupid middle-school kid. I'm watching South Park."

I rolled my eyes as he started flipping through channels again.

"Would you pick a channel, already?" I asked, annoyed.

"No." He said simply, continue to flip but faster.

"Stop," I growled.

"Nope,"

"Dude, I said _stop_."

"What are you going to do about it?" Dylan challenged. "Tell your mommy?"

"Shut up," I groaned. "Your voice annoys me."

"I'm sure;" Dylan sniped, "That's not what the ladies say."

"Not every lady is head-over-heals for you." I said, "Sorry to break it to you."

"They are, too," Dylan laughed, "You just don't know, do you? Nobody likes _you_. That's because everyone likes _me_."

"I can name two people who don't like you," I insisted, "Max and Nudge doesn't like you."

"That's because Nudge is a year younger, and lives two towns over." Dylan said. "She doesn't know me."

"That still leaves Max," I shrugged, "She'll never fall for someone like _you_."

"Wanna bet?" Dylan said, sitting up straight again. He eyes me with an evil grin, spreading across his face. "I bet you can't get Lissa Grey to like you before I can call Max my girlfriend."

"What is this?" I asked, "Some kind of weird movie? Girls end up liking anybody after a while."

"I'm talking about, if I ask her if she likes Fang Ride she'll say you two are soul mates. That kind of like." Dylan said, "If you win, I'll give up on Max, and leave you alone. But if I win…" A stupid grin spread across his face. "You have to stop being friends with her."

"What?" I sputtered. "Stop being friends? With Max, you mean? But she's been my friend for, like, ever."

"It's a bet," He shrugged again, "Unless you're too chicken?"

"Chicken," I scoffed, "Whatever."

"Haven't you always wanted to get rid of me?" Dylan asked, "I'll stop talking to you. I'll ignore you, stop coming over here. _I'll leave you alone_. Don't you understand?"

I bit my lip. Max would be _mad _if she found out I had made a bet concerning her. She'd try to stab me… but the price of getting Dylan to stop coming over here? I doubt Max would ever fall for him, anyways. It wouldn't be that hard to get Lissa to like me… would it? I've read plenty of books; they pretty much tell you how to get a girl…

"Fine," I nodded, "It's a bet."

"That's my boy," Dylan grinned. "Come on. Shake on it."

I held out my hand to him, and he gripped it, pumping it up and down in handshake.

**Okayyy... That was chapter 2! I hope you guys are liking it!**

**So I'm getting a puppy! It's a male Yorkie. Can I get some name suggestions? Totalwhat's been declined by my mother.**

**R&R, Betssss**


	3. Chapter 3

Max

Chapter 3

Ella's Home

"I honestly cannot believe school is starting so soon," I sighed dramatically to Fang. "I mean, I haven't even read those stupid summer reading books yet."

"I have," Fang confessed, with his legs draped over my armchair, one arm sprawled over his face. I could see the dark, almost violet-black eyes peeking from under it.

"Of course you have," I waved my arms wildly, "You're Fang-freaking-Ride. As close to perfection as it gets."

Fang smirked. "I wouldn't call myself perfection. My room isn't as _near _as clean as this one is."

I looked around my room. Clothes were strewn across the floor, my computer space was littered with cups of day-old tea, bottles of water and Gatorade, and my Guinea pig cage was drug to sit in front of my window. My bed posts had blankets hanging from each one lazily, and the bed that I sat on was rumpled and clearly not made. My chair had clothes folded over the top, and to my horror, I noticed a bra hanging from the arm rest.

"Yeah, well," I scoffed, "I hope that's not sarcasm."

"You know it is," Fang laughed. He had to be the most organized guy I had ever met. While his drawers were color-coded and organized, mine were sprawled open and containing God knows what. The last time I had been over, which may have been the first of summer, he had just gotten a shoe organizer for his closet door.

"So what's Iggy up to?" I questioned, changing the subject. I started to stack the mess of cups up, self-consciously.

"I don't know," Fang answered, swinging his legs off the chair and standing. "He said he was going to the library."

"Oh," I answered, "You said His Majesty was hanging around your place? Tell Igs to head over here. We'll order in."

Fang shrugged in response as he knelt down to open my Guinea pig cage. "Do you think Spartacus could be a girl pig?"

Spartacus, my Guinea pig, was my present from fourth grade. His black hairs were starting to streak with grey, the white fading into a more dull color. After Fang and I spent days picking out names, we finally chose between Oreo and Spartacus. Fang liked the latter, and all it took was Mom commenting on the Spartacus movie for us to choose.

"I'm sure he's still a guy, Fang," I said, seizing the opportunity of his turned back to pluck my bra and send it flying into my closet. Using my foot to kick the door closed, I turned on him. "I mean, that's what the lady at the pet store said when we bought him."

Fang and I had saved up every quarter, nickel, and dime to buy him, since neither of our parents would allow a dog, our first choice. Sometimes Fang would take Sparty with him back to his apartment, but mostly he stayed with me. I remember the day we bought him, me standing with my piggy bank in front of the huge checkout counter, and the scrawny, young Fang holding a bag of dollar bills and quarters with nervous hands.

"You'd have to be stupid not to know what he is when you held him up." Fang said, holding the wriggling animal in front of him.

"Stop that," I scolded, "You'll give the poor guy a heart attack."

"So he _is_ a guy?" Fang questioned.

"Does it matter?" I asked, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

"Of course it does," Fang said, putting Spartacus back in his cage. "I can't be the only guy around here."

I rolled my eyes, "Whatever, Fang."

"Hey, Iggy just texted," Fang said, clearing his throat, "He's coming over."

"I'm not surprised," I groaned, "Now I have to _really _pick up in here."

Fang started picking up clothes, piling them up in his arms. "Look on the bright side," He said, "You have me for company!"

"That helps," I muttered.

"Hey!" He protested.

"Kidding," I told him, "Now hurry up and help me clean."

"Iggy won't care," Fang said, but he bent over to scoop up a pair of my yellow shorts.

"Yeah, well," I muttered, "If Mom walked in here and saw this room with Iggy over…" I trailed off. Mom didn't care what Fang saw in this house- messy rooms, speaking- because he basically lived here half of the week, but anybody else. No. She'd flip, thinking a messy house reflected on her parenting skills. Not that she wasn't a bad parent; she was just had the night-shift at the vet's office, and really wasn't around during the night, sleeping during the day.

Fang used to spend the night with me, mainly because I was home alone for the nights, back when I was in fourth grade. About the time middle school ended, he spent the night less and less, as we both matured, and our parents denied us to sleep together. Besides, I had lost my fear of the dark by then.

Of course, that didn't last long. He still came over and slept over on most weekends, mainly because we'd stay up too late for him to be on the roads, going back home. His mother would get furious and wouldn't come pick him up- or vise-versa- at twelve o'clock, about the time we'd be headed to bed. So, our mothers gave up and we ended up with each other every weekend.

"Paging Maxine," Fang called, waving his hand in front of my face. "I _said _Iggy is waiting to be buzzed in."

"Really, we're bringing out the full names?" I quoted him from earlier. "You know I hate it."

"Maximum," He said with a funny face, "Maximum Maxine, Maximum Maxine."

"Okay, now you're annoying," I passed him, walking to the front of the flat to buzz Iggy in. "I mean, _why _were my parents so stupid enough to name their child Maximum Maxine Martinez?"

"So your initials would be _MMM_." Fang said matter-of-factly.

"Nickolas Ride," I laughed in his face. "At least I _have _a middle name."

"You know my Mom doesn't believe in middle names," Fang rolled his eyes, "She said it's a waste of her time."

"That's okay," I rumpled his hair as I hit the button. I heard the squeaking of metal on metal as the outside gates opened. "We'll just make up a nickname for you."

Fang was the result of a sperm donor and his mother. Angela Ride never married, but she did date men from her work. So far she's been through four men since I've known her. They all stayed around for a while, years at the most; Chris Gunther-Hagen being the longest to stick around.

Sometimes, as a middle-school kid, Fang would compare himself to actors and singers. Could they possibly be his father? Didn't stars like to donate sperm for publicity? But of course, none had the same black, darker-than-a-raven hair, much less the smutty black eyes, mixed with a look of violet and darker browns. Of course, I only knew this from being up close to him more than a girl should. He was my friend, and I knew him about as well as I knew myself. He was like half of me; he was my personal diary, the guy I told everything to. If you wanted to know something about me, just ask him.

"_Max_!" Fang said, clapping his long, slender olive-skinned hands over my ears. "Hello! Wake up; you're in Max Land. What is going on with you?"

"Nothing," I smiled at him, "Where's the Igster?"

"You missed him," Fang said, his eyebrows knitting together. "He walked right past. He went to the bathroom."

I pulled my phone out. "Let's have pizza. Is pepperoni okay for Iggy tonight?" I didn't even have to ask for Fang. He didn't like pepperonis, but he did like to pull them off and eat the cheese. I usually ate his pickings, adoring the existence of a perfect pepperoni.

"Yes," Iggy called from behind the bathroom door. "That's great!"

"So," I turned to Fang, "What movie are we watching?"

The door opened behind us, "I'm home!" The familiar voice of my sister called out, cheerful and light. "And it's raining cats and dogs out there!"

"Ella!" I cried, hurrying to throw my arms around her thin waist. "I wasn't expecting you until later."

"Nice to see you, too," She scoffed, goodheartedly. "Wotcher, Fang,"

"I don't speak British," Fang said, frowning.

"It basically means what's up," I rolled my eyes. "You've been in the UK for a year, there's no way you've already grown used to that."

"Nah," Ella laughed. I had always been jealous of her laugh; it was light and fragile; as if you held a knife to her throat it would shatter. My sister was thin and a bit taller than me, her blonde hair spilling over her shoulders in wringlets. She had dyed her hair a lot as a teen in high school, but now she was going with her semi-natural looks; I could see the highlights of brunette and tad bits of roots in her wet hair. "I was only kidding."

She wore a brown travel coat and a cream pencil skirt, her black knee-high boots shining. "Nice hat," I told her, noticing her matching beret.

"A present from my French art teacher," She winked, "We played an end of the year party similar to dirty Santa."

"Blah," I said, opening and folding my hand as if I was doing the blabbing mimic. "Blah, blah, blah,"

"I know," Ella scoffed, "You still don't approve of my art classes?"

"You go to _England _for _art classes_," I said calmly, "Doesn't make any sense."

"Okay," Fang stepped between my sister and me. "As hot as it would be to see a chick fight tonight, I'd rather hang out."

What did guys find so hot about chick fights? "Let's go pick out a movie," I told him, "Netflix is my hero."

"Thanks for the invite," Ella called as we disappeared down the hall, our last glimpse of her unwrapping her scarf. "Stupid high school kids and their stupid groups…" I swear I heard her mutter.

"We won't be high school for much longer!" I called to her. "We're seniors now!"

"Did I hear someone else in the house?" Iggy asked, sprawled on the bed, when we walked into my bedroom.

"My sister," I told him, "Ella, is home."

Fang

Promising Promises

Max had always been smaller. With thin arms and legs, she had earned several bird-like nicknames by the age of seven. But she never let it get to her; she would be the kind to flap her "wings" and strut herself around the playground. Once she even jumped off the monkey bars and broke a leg, but she never lost her bird act.

She got oddly taller than most girls around middle school, which added to the names and taunts. But Max wasn't the kind of girl to listen to them; she was the kind to ignore them, unless they got in her personal space. She had always been the brave kind of girl, and wouldn't mind having to push a boy or shove a girl out of her way if needed.

By the first summer of high school, it was like Iggy and I had sort of started to realize Max was a girl. She had developed curves, and much, much more. It hit us like a bus- the shapes and sizes of our new Max. Of course, we both kept to our space. Max wasn't the type to share her personal space, and she certainly wasn't the type to "flaunt" it for us, either.

And we weren't the only ones to notice her, either. A whole bunch of guys did. None of them lived up to her expectations, though, and didn't stick around for long. She dated, but never for longer than a couple of months. Iggy and I had always questioned it, privately of course, but never did find out an exact answer.

Now, as she sprawled across her bed, a piece of pizza on a plate balanced on her stomach as she faced the ceiling, I wondered why she never kept her boyfriend. I mean, the girl was stunning; in her own way, of course.

Iggy must have been thinking the same thing, because he asked the question out loud. "Why don't you ever stick to a boyfriend?" He questioned. It was almost midnight, and if I wasn't going to spend the night, I had to get home soon.

Max turned her head to look at him, a quizzical look on her face. I knew that face surprisingly well. She'd always used that face on me when I was random, mixed in with a giggle or two. I had grown used to her facial expressions; I could tell what mood she was in without her even speaking on more than most days. "What?"

"I mean, when you dated Sam it was only for, like, five weeks."

"It was six," Max corrected, sitting up straight. She pushed her plate of pizza onto the dresser and padded over to open a drawer. I knew it was her pajama drawer; she had given me my own drawer, and it was right between her lingerie and her pajamas. I only knew that because once I opened the wrong drawer. "Besides, he wasn't good enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Iggy asked impatiently. He had been sitting on the floor by the door, his back pressed against the wall. It was the only place in the room he could receive phone service. His blonde hair was tussled and his blue eyes were sleepy. His books were piled up by his thigh, where he had flipped through them many times tonight.

Max pulled out a pair of blue shorts from the drawer, closing it with her hip. "It _means _he wasn't my type. He wasn't romantic enough."

"How romantic does he have to be?" I chuckled, "The male race isn't too good at that type of thing. That's why most of the romance writers of the world are feminine."

"He didn't know how to make me fall for him," Max shrugged as she slipped out of her shorts. Her too-big shirt covered her body as she pulled her pajama shorts up. "He didn't know the right moves."

"What are the right moves?" Iggy asked. His attention was on Max, and I thought I could see a bit of red creep up into her face as she adjusted her shorts.

"You're kidding me," Max laughed, throwing her head down so that her hair hung over in front of her face. I could count the colors in her hair. Caramel, blonde, brunette strands and some other chick-invented colors that went in hair mixes. She started to scoop it all up into a bun. I couldn't help but notice the strip of skin that showed as her shirt slipped on her back. "The male race really _is _a fail."

"Could you explain what you're talking about?" I asked, reaching over and grabbing her pizza from its plate on the dresser. I started to pick off the toppings. It was my way of eating pizza; the toppings were shed first, and then the tomato sauce was scraped off with the crust. Then, finally, I folded the sauce-less, topping-less slab into a half triangle and ate it.

"Okay," She knuckled her hips, standing up straight. "For example… you couldn't ask Lissa for her number without scaring her off. A guy that I'm looking for would know _exactly _what to do."

"Maybe that's just Fang." Iggy said wistfully. "I would know what to do."

"Really," Max cocked an eyebrow, turning her head to the side. I saw that she missed a piece of hair. "It's your first date. Do you kiss her goodnight or hug her?"

"Kiss her," I put in at the same time Iggy did. He shot me an air high five.

"Wrong," She accused. "That would be too forward." Max crawled onto her bed and reached for her now empty plate of pizza. She shot a glare at me.

"Ask another one!" Iggy demanded, "I can pass this test!"

"Right," She said, "Who gets to pick the movie when the date is at the theater?"

"The girl," Iggy said, smiling knowingly. "Everyone knows that one."

"Wrong," Max said in a sing-song voice. "Because it'll just end in an "I don't care" argument; the guy should have a movie picked out before he even asks, along with the time."

"There's too much trouble to all of this," I groaned. "Why can't there be, like, a class for this sort of thing?"

Max shrugged. "There aren't any teachers who could teach you it, but I guess it would be in some kind of Life Skills class, like the one we had back in junior high."

Iggy seemed to be taking this in. "Okay," I stood up. "Thanks for the pizza and everything, but we've probably got to go. It's almost midnight, and Dylan is probably still at our house."

"Ugh," Iggy groaned, "The kid _has _to dye his hair. I mean, there's no way anybody can have that shade of hair."

"He probably does," I said. "And those eyes," I shuddered, "There's like some sort of turquoise crayon."

"If you guys want," Max interrupted, ignoring our insults, "You could just stay the night."

Iggy breathed in hesitation, but I already knew my answer. "Anything to stay away from Dylan…"

"He can't be that bad," She said, shaking her heads. "But you're both welcome to stay the night."

"I'll text Mom," Iggy said, returning to his place by the door. "Tell her we're staying the night and all that stuff."

"I'd better tell _my _mom," Max said, whipping out her own phone. Unlike Iggy and I, she had a different type of phone and company, so she got service anywhere in the apartment. I once considered switching companies.

/\/\AXI/\/\U/\/\

"Max," I whispered, the darkness in the room, only lit by a tiny bit of moonlight through the window. Max had never had thick curtains, which had always been a problem for her in the mornings, when she liked sleeping in until twelve on Saturdays and in the summer. "Are you awake?"

Max turned over in the bed. She was between Iggy and me, as she had always slept. She had her knees up to her chest, her bun tossled. She blinked up at me, the moonlights making her eyelashes cast shadows upon her cheekbones. "Does it look like I'm awake?" She murmured.

I turned to her so that we were face to face, Iggy's soft breathing behind her indicating his sleep. My fuzzy pillow I had left over here in fifth grade squished under me. "You know what you said, earlier?"

Max's face screwed up in thought. I saw she had forgotten to remove her mascara. "Fang," She whispered, "I say a _lot _of things. You'll have to be more specific."

"About the teachers," I said softly, "About how guys aren't very romantic?"

"Yeah," She whispered, looking up into my eyes. Her eyes were big and chocolaty brown, mixed in with tons of twinkling caramels and toffee colors. I caught my breath- as a kid I used to tell my mother all sorts of stories about how I thought her eyes were the prettiest things. How I wished I had had brown eyes instead of ugly, boring black ones. "What about it?"

"Can you teach me?" I whispered back. I peeked over her shoulder to see if we had woken Iggy. He was still sleeping, the sheets draped over his bony hips. Max used to grab his hip bones and joke about how skinny he was. But recently, Max had lain off.

"Teach you?" Max questioned, "What do you mean? Teach you what?"

"I made a bet with Dylan," I breathed, closing my eyes tightly, seeing little lights behind my eyelids. I was so tired, I was tempted to just fall into sleepiness. I would have to leave her out; I couldn't tell about how I had used her to bet with. "He said I couldn't get Lissa to like me."

"Why would you make a bet with Dylan?" She asked. She scooted closer, so that her chest was pressed to mine. She fit perfectly. This was how we had slept on thunderstorm nights, when we were both too scared to stay separate. Our legs intertwined, and I could feel the smoothness. I slowly extended my arm, and she snuggled her head into the crook of it.

"He said he'd leave me alone," I said, feeling my eyes flutter shut. I could inhale the scent of her- she had her very own scent of soap, shampoo and somehow air. Like a breezy wind. "He said if I got Lissa to be my girlfriend, he'd stop messing with me."

"What's in it for him?" Max questioned softly. Her breath was on my chest. My clothed chest- the only rule Max's mother had was that everyone stayed in clothes if we were to sleep together. That would always be the rule. "Why would he want to see you with Lissa?"

I breathed in hesitation. "He says I couldn't get a girlfriend. That I'm basically a loser."

"So you want me to teach you?" She whispered, curling her hand into my shirt. It would've been an intimate gesture and position- if this weren't Max, and she wasn't my best friend. "You want me to teach you how to get a girlfriend?"

"Yes," I said, "Please."

"You'll be a great boyfriend by the time I'm done with you." Max said, releasing my shirt and rolling over again. The queen-sized bed seemed to be just right for the three of us.

"And, Max," I whispered. She looked over her shoulder at me.

"Yes?"

"Do you like Dylan?" I asked, searching her eyes for an answer.

"I don't know," She shrugged thoughtfully. "He's a jerk, according to you two. How could I like a jerk?"

"Okay," I whispered, closing my eyes for good this time. "Promise me you won't fall for Dylan?"

"I don't know what it matters," Max said back, "But I promise you. I won't fall for Dylan."

**Sooo.. yeah.**

**I start school on the 8th, Wednesday. Gahhh.**

**R&R, Max might have to just... break that promise.**


	4. Chapter 4

_Summary: Maximum "Max" Martinez teaches her best friend Fang how to become the best boyfriend there is to impress Lissa, his longtime crush. But when Max and Fang start to hang out more, will feelings for her spark? And will Max's lessons on how to kiss, touch, dance, and romance make Fang fall for the wrong girl? AU, Fax_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride, or the characters within the amazing story. James Patterson is the author/owner of the book and characters. I only own the plot for this story!**

**Warning: Characters may be OOC at times. That's just my style- but I try to keep them in-character most of the time, but with an AU story, it's bound to be a bit OOC! **

**PiperElizabethMcLean**

Max

Chapter 4

I woke up to a rather warm air around my face, a damp feeling and the sound of soft breathing. To my left, a dark headed boy with extra-long black lashes, brushing his cheekbones. To my right a blonde boy with long, framing spider leg white eyelashes, fluttering open. His blue eyes locked on mine, and a sleepy smile spread across his face.

"Tell me this is a dream," He murmured. I looked down and realized why he was saying this. My hand was curled into his. He had long, pale, cold fingers, but somehow they were warm against my tan ones. He had an engineer's hands, a builder's. He liked to build things, things being bombs and robots, and such. Quickly, I pulled my hand away.

Sitting up, I pushed the loose hairs away from my face. "It must have been the storm last night. I must have gotten scared."

The light disappeared from Iggy's eyes, leaving me to wonder why he had gotten so excited. "Where's Fang?" He asked, pulling me away from my questioning thoughts.

I turned around, and sure enough, Fang was not in his spot. The covers were pulled up neatly and tucked into place. "I dunno," I shrugged, "He's probably in the bathroom."

"Max," Iggy said quickly, taking my hand again. "I have to tell you-"

"Good morning, good morning," Fang said, entering the room. He wore a black baseball hat and a new black shirt I knew he had gotten from his drawer in my dresser. He was tall as he leaned against the doorframe, and had the look of sleep wiped from his face. "Early bird gets the worm! Wake up!"

His eyes narrowed as they seemed to zoom into Iggy holding my hand. "Wait- did I walk in on something?"

I shook my hand away from Iggy's and tumbled off the bed, straightening myself up. "No." I said, "You didn't. What were you doing, anyway?"

"Ella and I were having a nice, long chat just now," Fang smirked, "Over pancakes and bacon. Care to join us?"

"Yes," I said, tucking the loose hairs behind my ear. I started to follow Fang to the door when he stopped abruptly.

"I'll be there in just a minute," He said, striding towards Iggy. "We'll be right back."

I left the room, closing it behind me. But as I walked away, I heard their voices come from behind the door.

"Max? I thought we went over this."

"I don't know," Iggy's muffled reply came. "She's special to me, Fang."

"Yeah, special _Ed," _Fang laughed.

"I'm not kidding," Iggy's tone was all seriousness. I pressed my ear to the door as his voice lowered. "Fang, I really like her. I don't care if you approve anymore."

I pulled my head away from the door. Iggy likes _me_? But why, like Fang said, I was nothing special. It would explain his odd behavior, though.

"Well," I knew Fang was rubbing the back of his neck. He did that during awkward moments. "It's not that I don't approve. It's that I think she'll crush you, dude. You know she has a type. But for all it's worth… I say you go for it."

I have a type? I thought back to old boyfriends. They didn't have _anything_ in common. I didn't have a type; I just liked who I liked.

"I woke up," The second brother said, light amusement in his tone. "I woke up with her hand in mine. I don't know if that was me holding _her _hand, or it if was _her _holding _my _hand."

"Maybe you should tell her," The darker brother suggested. "Tell her how you feel? I don't know."

"You heard her last night. She wants someone who is _romantic_."

"You could be romantic," Fang's voice was suggestive and questioning, "If you wanted. You've read all the books she has, right?"

"No," His voice wavered in laughter, "I would never read Pretty Little Liars."

"Okay, so maybe not _all_ of them," Fang's chuckle was low, "But you know more than I do on this subject."

"What would a guy she liked do? Would he tell a girl his feelings?"

"Nobody knows what kind of guy Max likes," Fang answered, "That's like learning Pi in one day."

"I know it starts with 'three-point-one-four'," Iggy smirked. "That's about it."

Fang chuckled again, "I say you learn a little bit of romance, and then go after her."

"Romancing for Dummies," Iggy laughed. I imagined him rolling his eyes. "I'm sure there's a book for it."

I heard footsteps leading to the door. Quickly, I knocked. "Guys, are you coming?"

The door opened to Iggy's face. He smiled kindly down at me. He had always been annoyingly six inches taller than me. "Here we are."

As they walked down the hall and Fang passed, his eyes narrowed at me. "You heard didn't you?" He muttered so that only I could hear.

"I couldn't help it," I bit my lip. "I'm sorry."

"I won't tell him you were eavesdropping," Fang whispered as we entered the kitchen, "If you go easy on him when you turn him down."

"How do you know I'll turn him down?" I hissed, narrowing my eyes.

"You're Max Martinez," He smirked, "You want the best of the best. And Iggy is not anywhere near that."

/\/\AXI/\/\U/\/\

"Why are _you _so happy?" I muttered, cutting into my pancake with a fork. It was drowned in syrup, the way I liked it. I didn't even have to turn to Fang's plate to know he had a dry flapjack. He hated syrup on his pancake, and liked to dip it in someone else's syrup. Someone else's being mine, like always.

"Mom left me shopping money," Ella bragged, drowning her pancakes in syrup, like me. It was annoyingly way too similar to my style. "So I'm heading out to shop. Wanna come with?"

"No," I shook my head. She looked perky today, which made me feel ugly. I felt Fang reach over me to dip his pancake in my syrup. "I'll find something to do here."

"Maybe you could clean up around here?" Ella questioned. Her hair was in a bun on her head, strands falling flawlessly around her face. Why couldn't I ever get mine to do that? Mine always looked like I was dragged through a field or raccoons were set loose on me after I tried to do a cute hairstyle of Ella's.

"Ugh," I groaned, "No. Cleaning is _not _my thing."

"I'll help you," Iggy put in helpfully, "If you want…"

Fang snickered into his pancake, and occupied himself by eating his pancake, tearing the fluff apart and reaching over to dip in my syrup again. I swatted at his hand.

"See, your friends want to help you," Ella said, "That's more than enough help to clean the house!"

I groaned again, "No."

"You're doing it," She said, an eerie command entering her voice. She was never exactly mean, but I knew better than to refuse her. "And it should be cleaned by the time I'm home."

"What time will you be home?" Iggy questioned.

Ella glared for a second. Then, slowly, her glare quirked into a grin, and a smile spread across her face. "I like this one. He's like me as a teen; plans on doing the job at the last minute." She laughed. "I'll be home by five."

"That's perfect time," Fang said from next to me. "We'll have it done, Ells."

"Good," She sashayed out of the kitchen. "And clean up that mess when you're done?"

I groaned again as Fang took another dip in my syrup.

/\/\AXI/\/\U/\/\

"So," Fang said, plugging in the vacuum cleaner into the wall. That was always his part; he always chose to vacuum over anything else. Even when I was over at his house and he was cleaning, he'd be the one to vacuum. My part was usually dusting, but today that was Iggy's job. I picked up the pillows around the living room. "When do we start our little class?"

"Class," I questioned him, "What class?"

Fang started to push the vacuum cleaner around. I could barely hear him over the noise, having irritated thoughts coming to my head. Why couldn't somebody just invent a freaking silent cleaner already?!

"The… class," Fang said, stumbling for words. "Uh, you know. The boyfriend class thingy you were going to teach."

"The class that will make you a great boyfriend, you mean?" I cocked an eyebrow. "I thought you were kidding about that."

Fang's face tinted red. "I-"

"Oh, this is pathetic. He's taking classes?" Iggy plopped down on the couch, his dusting spray and rag forgotten on the coffee table. "Tell me more."

"You'd do the same, too." Fang accused with amusement. He started to fill Iggy in on the classes and the idea of it..

I took a seat across the couch from Iggy, my chin in my hand and my elbow on my knee. "What do you want to know?"

"How does he tell a girl he likes her?" Iggy blurted. His eyes widened at what he said, and pink entered his cheeks. "I mean, he's going to have to tell her…"

While Fang looked at Iggy with raised eyebrows, I tried to pretend I didn't notice. To save him from embarrassment, and then there was the fact that I didn't like him like that… He was Iggy. He was my _friend _Iggy; not my _boyfriend_ Iggy.

"Well, maybe you should concentrate on getting to know her, first." I advised. "Like, try and talk to her."

"About what," Fang questioned, using his elbow to prop himself on the vacuum cleaner in front of me. "What do girls like to talk about?"

"Well," I thought carefully. "Lissa likes animals. She has a lot of them, and most of the time she brings them to her little sister's class for show-and-tell."

"How did you know that?" Iggy asked, his blonde eyebrows coming together.

I shrugged, "Last year I worked in the office. She had to sign in the elementary to bring them in."

"So, I just up and go? Walk up to her, ask her about the pets she brings to Michelle's classroom?" Fang shook his head, "That's easy."

"Michelle?" Max frowned, "I knew you liked Lissa, Fang, but I didn't think you creeped her."

I knew he followed her on all the social websites. She was a high-tech girl, but it seemed she liked the picture app the most. Mainly because every time I clicked onto Instagram, there was a picture of a smiling redhead or something under her account.

Fang's face reddened again. "I only know because… well…"

"Because of that picture she put on Instagram?" Iggy asked, raising his eyebrows. He turned his phone to me and showed a picture on Lissa's profile of her hugging a little girl with blazing red hair and braces. She had braids and orangey-brown eyelashes. It looked like Lissa at the age of about eight or nine. "The caption reads something about hanging out with the 'seester'. That's S-E-E-S-T-E-R."

"Thank you, teacher," Fang rolled his eyes. "We know how to spell seester."

Iggy shrugged, "It's an uncommon word for 'sister'."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Fang shot to his twin.

"No problem, Sergeant Sarcasm." Iggy leaned on his knees, a grin taking hold of his face. Not this again.

"Indeed, Comrade Comeback." Fang wiggled his eyebrows annoyingly. He looked just as into it as his twin.

"Thank you, Senior Smart-"

"Okay!" I interrupted irritably. "Both of you shut up!" They did the bantering often, which usually ended in Iggy coming up with some smart-aleck remarks and Fang stumbling for comebacks. The worst part was getting in an argument with Fang over how stupid his secret online blog was. He never told Iggy or me the site's address, and every time we Googled it we got some weird bird guy with wings instead of what we wanted.

"We just got to the good part," Iggy whined as Fang pouted. "It was my turn- _finally_- to say Senior Smart-"

"I said _enough_," I rolled my eyes. "I mean, that isn't attractive. Arguing with your brother- your _twin, _at that- and I'm sure Lissa won't fall head-over-heels for you if she sees that."

Fang seemed to shut his mouth at that. "So how does he do it, then?" Iggy questioned.

"Well, school is coming up." I said, "You two have to at least one class together. You could try to sit beside her? Except, don't make it obvious."

"What if I don't sit beside her?" Fang asked

"Walk beside her in the halls." I shrugged, "Ask her how her summer went, or something."

"'Or something', what do you mean?" Iggy questioned.

"Something not creepish…"

"Okay, that helps," Fang crossed his arms over his chest. "I mean, seriously, Max."

"Okay, hold that thought," Iggy held up a finger. "I'll be right back." He padded down the hall and turned into the bathroom.

Fang rolled his eyes. The expression was so familiar to me. He had been doing it since the day we met, when I had called him a "Gothic emo kid". He didn't like that too much…

I was always shorter than he was, and that day was even worse because I hadn't grown as much as I should have over the summer. He was tall and had really tan skin. He wore some type of sneakers and, of course, sneakers. When he wouldn't tell me his name, I had decided to call him "GEK", or "Gothic Emo Kid". He didn't appreciate that, and ignored me. Finally, I got him to talk to me when I told Ella on the playground that he was my "Gothic emo kid buddy". I had gotten pinched that day, many times.

"Hello? Max?" Fang called me out of my memories.

"What?" I asked, "Did you decide on something not creepy?"

"Can you please just help me?" He asked, his eyes full of plead.

I sighed, "Yes, Fang. I'll help you out."

And then it was like a light flicked in his eyes, consuming them and spreading across his face, happiness and hope re-entering. If you could get happiness and hope out of lessons on how to be a great boyfriend, then it was happening. I realized he must really like the girl for all this trouble, and my eyes softened. As soon as they did, the emotion was wiped from his face like a cleaned whiteboard. Very rarely did he let an emotion slip… that emo kid.

"When do we start?" He asked. I pushed my bangs back and sighed.

"We start after school starts."

**And that was chapter four! I tried to make it long. Seriously, I did. Like the last chapter. But I couldn't think of anything else to put in it!**

**The next chapter will be their first day of school, also their first day of "lessons"! You guys can get excited about that if you'd like. **

**Also, I'd like to thank y'all! 107 reviews and only 3 chapters... wow! THANK YOU!**

**R&R, Whose ready for lessons?!**


	5. Chapter 5

_Summary: Maximum "Max" Martinez teaches her best friend Fang how to become the best boyfriend there is to impress Lissa, his longtime crush. But when Max and Fang start to hang out more, will feelings for her spark? And will Max's lessons on how to kiss, touch, dance, and romance make Fang fall for the wrong girl? AU, Fax_

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride, or the characters within the amazing story. James Patterson is the author/owner of the book and characters. I only own the plot for this story!**

**Warning: Characters may be OOC at times. That's just my style- but I try to keep them in-character most of the time, but with an AU story, it's bound to be a bit OOC! **

**PiperElizabethMcLean**

Max

Chapter 5

I was bored. Really, _really _bored, and nobody was there to entertain me, unless you counted Nudge, which I did not. Once you got her going, there was no way to stop her. Fang was not in any of my honors' classes. He had never wanted to be in honors' classes, though he had the grades for it, and never selected them for his courses.

Usually the first day of school was not this boring. I sat through the boring introductions of my already well-known fellow classmates while I watched the clock. In just a few minutes I had Study Hall, the only class I had with Fang, and also my last class of the day.

I wondered if Fang had talked to Lissa today. Did he use his moves? Did he talk to her about what I instructed him to? Would she laugh in his face, turn him down? Or would she fall for him?

A part of me wondered what it would be like if he dated Lissa. Would he have any time for me left? Would I be stuck without a friend? Or even worse; would I be the third wheel?

"Max," A voice hissed next to me. I turned to Iggy, who had chosen to sit next to me in every class we had together- unlike his twin, he took the chance to be in advanced classes. "You have Study Hall next, right?"

"Yes," I nodded, shifting in my seat. My plaid skirt wasn't built with shorts under, and the skin on my legs was sweating from the heat in the classroom, making the seat slippery. "And you?"

"Max!" The teacher's loud voice boomed. "Max Martinez!"

"Ma'am," I turned to her, wide-eyed. I had never gotten in trouble for anything except maybe talking in class. Which was what I thought was happening now, except why would Iggy be snickering if I was getting in trouble?

"Your introduction," She cocked an eyebrow, which wasn't hard for her because it looked like she had colored her eyebrows in with brown eyeliner that morning. "It's your turn."

I stood up. I hated being put on the spot like this, but most of the time it wasn't that bad. I mean, I had done it in basically every class this morning.

"I'm Max," I waved at my class. It was no point. They knew me already. "I like to read and talk. I have one sister and I live with my mom."

The other students just stared in boredom. It was the same thing I said in every class, pretty much.

"Thank you," The teacher smiled, her brows raised. I tried to decide if she was just smiling enthusiastically or if that was just how her brows were painted.

I smiled in return, noticing her nails and lipstick colors matched as she fluffed up her afro of curls. She was a pale old woman, but whatever.

As she called on everybody else, I barely listened. A boy who liked football, another who liked to hunt; a girl who liked shopping, another who liked jewelry… they all said things their favorite activities.

Finally, when the bell rang, I hurried out of the room, grabbing my phone from the "phone box". Apparently, this year teachers were making a rule where your cell phones had to go in a box. That way, if your phone vibrated, then you didn't get it taken up because there was no way it would be your fault if your phone was in the box. If it went off, though, and it wasn't in the box, then you were supposed to turn it in and pay money to get it back.

I passed a group of junior high students, huddled up in groups and whispering with frightened faces. It made me want to scream at them to hurry up. Apparently they did not understand the concept of tardy slips and detentions.

"Excuse me," I said through gritted teeth as a girl with braids and another with a pink bow came together to whisper excitedly. "I've got to get to class."

When neither bothered to move, or acknowledge me, I pushed through them. They shot me murderous looks and glares.

"You were in the way," I argued, "I asked nicely!"

"Max!" Somebody grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the kids. "Leave them alone!"

I looked over at Iggy. His fingers were cold- despite the hot weather- as the wrapped around my arm. I shook him off. "I asked them nicely."

I opened my locker as more kids in stiff new uniforms passed in the hall. A couple of snickering juniors tripped the hurrying sixth graders as they rushed down the hall, making them fall over themselves, their books sliding away.

"Is this your locker?" Iggy asked, "Locker number five?"

"Yes," I smiled, "I'm so glad our lockers are the newest ones."

"Senior-class privileges," He waggled his eyebrows. "You don't understand how happy I am that we're graduating soon."

"Oh, I understand," I told him, passing a group of cheerleaders talking and waving their hands wildly for word effect. "I'm so ready to get away from here."

"Are you still thinking of moving to New York?" Iggy asked, "You know, you used to say you'd like to live in the Big City."

"Iggy, I was twelve, and I thought I wanted to be on Broadway." I rolled my eyes. "Besides, they don't show that bird ballet anymore."

"That was a pretty wild dream of yours," He chuckled as he side-stepped a hustling student. "Of course, I wanted to build bombs for the army back then."

"You still do." I pointed out.

"Yeah, but it has an actual job name-"

"I don't care to hear about pyro dreams at the moment," I interrupted as we entered the study hall. "I'd rather just sit in silence for a second or two. Today was drove me wild."

"Whatever you like," Iggy said, sliding into a desk beside me. Fang sat on my other side, unzipping his backpack and unloading several books.

"Is that homework?" I asked him. He wore a navy shirt and khaki pants, the boy's version of the uniform. Of course, they could choose between white and navy shirts and shorts or pants. Fang wore the same color shirt and a different pair of pants every day. Of course, Iggy was opposite and wore white shirts and most of the time shorts. It was like they begged to be different.

"Yes," He nodded, "Mrs. Blaine assigned two pages of Math. But whatever, it's only geometry."

"We took that our sophomore year," Iggy put in.

"That's what I'm saying." Fang said, "It's easy."

"What went on today?" I asked him. "I didn't see you at lunch."

Our school, unlike many others, has a huge cafeteria and only seven-hundred and forty students. Each student could fit in the cafeteria at once, but the elementary, junior high and high school went at different times. So when I said I didn't see Fang, I seriously didn't see him. He was either not in there or really good at being invisible.

"I was signing up for football." Fang shrugged.

"Football," I raised my eyes. "But don't you have to, like, do the work outs and everything with them that summer?"

"I have been working out this summer," Fang shrugged. "And two-a-days started today. All I missed was this morning's."

"So you're going to come every morning at four, and then every night at six until nine?" Iggy questioned, balancing a pencil on his fingertip.

"Yup," He nodded. "I am."

"You'll be all smelly in the morning," I wrinkled my nose. "Gross."

"I can take a shower, Max." Fang said. Then, lowering his voice, he added, "Plus, Lissa likes football players."

"Oh, isn't her cousin the running back?" I asked. "I mean, is he still?"

"Sam?" Iggy wrinkled his brow. "Why couldn't you just say his name?"

"Because in the situation it would be better to say 'her cousin'," I started to explain. "Whatever. I can say what I want."

Iggy chuckled as Fang went on, "Dylan is the quarterback. They needed at least two more seniors. I signed up, and I think Austin did."

"Austin?" Iggy stopped chuckling. "I could've got that spot!"

"It was your old position," Fang shrugged, "Tight end."

Iggy turned away, obviously PO'd.

Fang

"What else happened today?" Max asked me. She had tiny flecks of mascara that had come from her eyelashes and landed below her eyes, probably from sweat. She was looking at me expectedly, and I knew she wanted to know about Lissa.

Lissa was in a lot of my classes. She wore the girl's plaid skirt and a white button down today- which, if I was younger I'd probably point out her green bra that showed through the tank top under- which happened to be my favorite outfit of choice for this school's crappy uniforms.

She sat in groups with her friends mostly, and every time I finally made it to class, the seats beside her were taken. So that took my chances away for sitting beside her.

At lunch, when I finally made it _to _lunch, she was sitting at a table with some cheerleaders and a few football players. She was, of course, a cheerleader, and happened to be the smallest and shortest on the team. Lissa was the flyer, and usually the top of the pyramid if Patty, the tiny freshman wasn't there.

"I didn't get to sit by her." I told Max. "Every seat beside her was taken."

"In every class, every seat beside her was taken?" Max questioned. Her forehead was starting to form tiny beads of sweat, and she impatiently took the little green, bracelet-like ponytail- those stupid no grip things that all the girls wore on their wrists but never seemed to put in their hair- and pulled her hair into a messy bun on top of her head. She impatiently pushed her bangs back. Every time she got a haircut from the barber's, they never cut it to where she could tuck it behind an ear, much to Max's displeasure.

"Every one," I nodded. "What am I going to do?"

"We'll have to work on looks, then." Max nodded. "Maybe after school or something you can come by the apartment and I'll show you some looks girls go crazy over."

"That sounds good," I said, "I think the Gunther-Hagen idiots were planning on coming over tonight. I can't stay long."

"You still have to take the G-pig by the vet." I reminded him. "It's your turn."

"Is he still overly fat?" I questioned, "Have you been feeding him nonstop?"

"No," Max laughed, "It's not because he's fat. I think something's wrong with him. He's drinking a lot of water and doesn't eat enough."

"Okay," I sighed. "Another visit to the animal clinic; what else do I need to do today?"

"I could use another iTunes card," Max smiled brightly. "A new book I wanted will be coming out soon-"

"No." I shook my head, "I am not letting you buy any more books on your iPad."

"Why not," She demanded, "That's what the iBooks app is for!"

"You've already used up your thirty-two gigabytes and your mom said she wasn't buying any more space on there for you."

"Fang-"

"If you want it, buy it yourself. I'm not getting chewed out." I told her, ending the discussion. "I've got to go talk to the couch. Get a schedule."

"Have fun," Max said as I slid out of my chair. I turned around to say something to her, but she was already writing on her homework.

I realized as her hair drooped from her bun that she was seriously pretty… in a completely friend way, of course. Her eyelashes may be swiped with mascara, but they were long and framed her brown eyes thickly. Her cheekbones were slightly pink from the heat, which made her look like she was blushing. As she wrote, her head tilted. It was weird; I had always known her to write this way.

I knew my best friend as well as I knew myself, and if I were in some kind of requirement at the end of the world where I had to admit that I loved her, I probably would… but still not to her face. Because then I'd probably get pinched or hit… as always.

Max

"So… how are we supposed to do this?"

I sighed at Fang from across the kitchen table. I had changed out of my uniform and into a pair of shorts and a big t-shirt, but it was obvious he had come from football. His hair was still wet from the sweat, and he wore his white practice pants without the pads. A regular grey t-short was stretched across his chest.

"You're the one who wanted the lessons," I shrugged, "You tell me."

"You're the girl! _You _tell _me_." Fang protested.

"Just because I have boobs doesn't mean I can tell you what to do," I rolled my eyes. "Sexist pig…"

"I'm not being sexist," He leaned forward, shaking his head. "I need help."

Never before had he really asked for help with something. He'd always demanded he do it on his own, or insisting he was a 'big boy'. Of course, that was when we were smaller and I wanted to do everything he did.

"We talked about talking," I told him, "Well, pretend you're talking to her. I'll be Lissa."

"You don't look like Lissa." Fang pointed out.

"Well, just give me a few seconds and I'll go back to my room and get my Lissa wig!" I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice. "No, really, Fang? I never knew."

"Okay, um, how about…" He thought for a moment. "Hey."

I snorted, "That's what you've come up with?"

"Shut up. That's what these so-called lessons are for!" Fang said.

"Okay, well, pretend we're in class or something," I pushed my bangs back. "I'm next to you."

"Hey, Lissa," He said, running his hands through his hair. I wanted to laugh again; he looked like Elvis, with his hair slicked back with sweat.

"Hi," I said, looking into his black eyes. They weren't the best color of eyes, and they didn't reveal a lot of emotion. Maybe that was just Fang?

"Uh," He cocked an eyebrow in thought, and his eyebrows bunched together. "Do you… er, like birds?"

"Seriously, Fang," I demanded in exasperation, "Birds?!"

"Max," He said seriously, "I'm clueless here!"

"How else did you get girls?" I asked, "You've had girlfriends before!"

"They came to _me_," Fang shrugged, "I didn't go to them. Besides, this is a different situation. I actually am interested in this one."

"You weren't interested in the rest?" I asked him. Who isn't interested in their girlfriends?

"Not really," He said, "Not as much as Lissa."

"What's so special about her, anyways?" I muttered. Then, louder, I said, "Let's just skip the conversation. What about looks?"

"I think I have that down," Fang smirked. He then proceeded to ruffle his sweaty, slicked down hair. He pulled up his grey shirt to reveal a tan stomach. "And check out this pack!"

"I'm talking about looks and emotions in your face." I went on, ignoring him as he rubbed his stomach with a loving face, "With me, you don't _have _to show emotion. I just know you that well. But with Lissa, you'll have to give her some kind of emotion."

"What?" He looked confused.

"You need to practice sexy and intrigued faces," I explained, "It could let a girl know that you're interested in what she says, or in her herself."

"Intrigued?" Fang asked.

"Curious or interested," I informed him, "You know what it means. If you don't have an intrigued face, then she'll think you are not interested and she'll freak."

"How do I do an intrigued face?" He asked me.

"Like, a 'this is interesting, tell me more' kind of face."

Face leaned on his elbow and propped his chin up. He dropped his eyelids and stared at me. "This is interesting. Tell me more."

"No, no, no." I shook my head, "You look like a tired old man."

"Gee, thanks." He muttered. He tried another face, placing his palms together and intertwining his fingers. His eyebrows were raised.

"Looks too fake," I waved my hand as if to dismiss the new look. "Next."

He tried several faces,varying between a sumo wrestler taking a dump to a giraffe giving birth.. Yeah, not pretty.

"You look like a giraffe giving birth."

"How do I resemble a giraffe giving birth?" Fang's face was expressionless and serious, mostly curious with surprise mixed in there somewhere. "Seriously."

"I dunno. Just the first insult that came to mind." I shrugged, standing up and stretching my hands behind me to pop my back. "Sorry, it would've been better, but I'm working on a short limit of time here." Famg's eyebrows rose slightly.

"Hot date?" Fang asked, standing up himself.

"I'm going to your house, smarty." I pulled my backpack over my shoulder. "Remember? Your Mom wanted me to bring over some of my artwork?"

The artwork I had done of birds flying from the art class I dropped weeks ago. Fang's mother wanted it to hang in her room, since I had done the work on canvas.

"Well, lucky you." He muttered. "Dylan's at home."

"Is Iggy home?" I asked him as we maneuvered towards the door. "He asked me something about Trig today. I could hang out with him."

"S'what?" Fang asked, "I'm not good enough for your presence?"

I pretended to wrinkle my nose in thought. "Nah."

**Whoa. Super duper long chapter.**

**HAPPY BIRFFFDAY TO LEXIIFOREVERXXX! **

**So Fangles looks like a giraffe giving birth...**

**R&R, I never really liked Maya... **


	6. Chapter 6

_Summary: Maximum "Max" Martinez teaches her best friend Fang how to become the best boyfriend there is to impress Lissa, his longtime crush. But when Max and Fang start to hang out more, will feelings for her spark? And will Max's lessons on how to kiss, touch, dance, and romance make Fang fall for the wrong girl? __And  
what about the weird love hexagon? _AU, Fax

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride, or the characters within the amazing story. James Patterson is the author/owner of the book and characters. I only own the plot for this story!**

**Warning: Characters may be OOC at times. That's just my style- but I try to keep them in-character most of the time, but with an AU story, it's bound to be a bit OOC! **

**PiperElizabethMcLean**

Iggy

Chapter 6

It would be perfect. _Perfect_, if only he could just spit it out. Admit his feelings for his best friend. It would be so easy. Like, "Hey! Max! I'm in love with you; I have been for a _very _long time. Make out with me, please?"

Okay, so maybe it wouldn't be _that _easy. It could be along those lines of easy, though… if I'd get over this totally un-manly crush.

_Crush_. That's all it felt like. Because you could not be _in love _with somebody who had no clue about your feelings… right?

Who cares; at the moment I was too worried to care. No, I was too busy trying not to drool over my Trig book as Max ranted on and on about something Fang did. I heard "giraffe", "sumo", and "birth" a couple of times. All I could manage to do was nod and agree. Did I know what I was agreeing to? No.

"Like, if she ends up going to R2DT, I don't know _what _I'll do. Because everybody knows I'm the only girl that goes!"

"Yep," I nodded, bunching my eyebrows together. _Whatever you say, Max; I'll agree with anything._ "Totally…"

"Iggy," Max groaned, throwing herself back onto my bed. She buried her face into a pillow, her Trigonometry book abandoned. "_Please _try to keep up."

"I am!" I defended, "R2DT!"

Max rolled her eyes, propping herself up on one elbow. "Who am I talking about, then?"

Who could she be talking about? "Nudge?" I asked carefully.

I was waiting for the buzzer. _Wrong_. "No." She sighed, pushing her bangs away from her face. My fingers itched to tuck them back, brushing her soft hair away from her beautiful face. Okay, cliché, much? "Lissa, Iggy. I'm talking about _Lissa_."

"She's going to R2DT?" I asked, my eyebrows bunching together again.

"Oh my…" She said sincerely. "I might just beat you."

"Please explain," I asked Max, "Again?"

"Lissa's going to R2DT this year." She grumbled, yanking on a stray strand of hair.

R2DT stood for _Ride 2 Destination Teen_… or maybe it was _Ride 2 District Teen_? I never remembered. Everybody just called it R2DT. It was more like a back-to-school retreat for the first weekend of school, and everybody who is everybody went. Of course, you had to be a junior or a senior, but Max had been going since she was a sophomore. Thanks to her older sister. This year was my first and last to go. Everybody left Friday directly after school and loaded up in a rented van or somebody's car, and drove to the location that was supposedly secret from parents. Only the kids knew, since it re-located every year. Max being the only girl to go wasn't exactly the truth. I pointed this out to her.

"Yeah, well, I'm _basically _the only girl that has real fun." I didn't ask her what she did for "real fun".

"Everybody has real fun," I argued. "You hit the pool whenever you feel like it, basically walk around in a swimsuit all day, and eat whenever you want."

"Then party at night." Max smiled slyly. "I love those parties."

"There's only two." I reminded her.

"These parties are talked about all over the world." She told me seriously. "Iggy, people in _states over _want to sneak into them."

"That's not true." I shook my head. "They're not all that."

Which they weren't; they were your regular high school parties, but bigger and not filled with freshmen trying to act cool.

"Okay, so maybe not from _states over_, but from different schools."

That was true.

"So what if Lissa goes?" I asked. "It's not like it does anything to you."

"The more girls that show up, the fewer boys that will be available for the night." Max nodded her head slowly. "And frankly, I'm not willing to share."

"You sound like a whore." I wrinkled my nose.

"Seriously, Iggy," She sighed dramatically. "I didn't mean it like that."

It was true. She probably didn't mean it like that. Max liked to be the leader, the center of attention. It was no surprise she wanted to have boys' attention. It hurt a little, but it was true. It was part of Max, and I couldn't change it, even if I wanted to.

I hesitantly reached my hand out and rested it on her leg. I took a deep breath, starting to talk before I could stop myself. Now was the time I should tell her.

"Knock, knock," My door opened. My hand flew away from her leg, and Max's eyebrows flew up at me. I could feel my face heat up.

"Dylan," I sighed, closing my eyes. "What do you want?"

"No need to be so rash," He said, striding into the room. He placed my laptop, which he had been holding, onto my desk. "I'm just returning your laptop." He hooked his fingers onto his belt loops.

He was playing nice. I had a strong feeling why he was doing it.

"Okay, well, thanks." I said, nodding. "You can go now…"

"I heard you two talking about R2DT." Dylan's Caribbean blue eyes turned on Max, ignoring me. "You're going?"

Max laughed a bit from her place on my bed. She was in _my _bed, in _my _room… which Dylan was still in. "Of course."

"That's cool," Dylan nodded at her, a smile creeping onto his face. His teeth were perfectly straight. Of course they were. He was _Dylan_. "I'm going."

"I'd suspect you were." Max crossed her arms over her chest. That's my girl; diss him. "You're certainly the type."

Dylan's head cocked to the side, faking innocence. "Huh?"

Max smiled a wicked grin. "Oh, don't play innocent. You're a big football star, right? You've _got _to be racking the girls up." She leaned forward a bit. "So tell me you're not the type to party and get the girls."

Dylan looked uncomfortable, but kept his smirk. "I was only wondering if you were going." He shrugged.

"I am." Max declared while sliding off her spot on my bed. In one swift movement, she swept up her books from my bed. "I'll see you there."

"Save me a dance." Dylan said, not bothering to turn around as he spoke. Max lingered in the doorway for a moment longer than I liked.

"We'll see." Then, she was gone.

/\/\AXI/\/\U/\/\

"We were talking." I informed Dylan, a scowl in place. "You ruined it."

"I don't care," He scoffed, sneering at me. "She's hot."

"You weren't even using my laptop." I narrowed my eyes. "It was sitting on the couch where I left it, wasn't it."

Dylan's shoulders rose. "And, you're point is..?"

"My point is she's not yours." I stood up to face him, nose to nose. He was just a bit taller. Not that it mattered; it was probably just the stupid shoes he wore that made it that way.

"She's not yours, either." He said simply. "She'll crush you."

Why does everybody think I'm weak? I am not weak. My hands curled into fists at my side, ready to throw a punch if needed. I could handle rejection, if that's what Dylan meant. If Max didn't like me back, so what; we'd go back to being friends. If he didn't get her, stuff would change. She'd never talk to him again, most likely.

My eyes squinted as I glared at him. "She'll never go for _you_." I spat at him.

"Oh?" Dylan questioned, starting to back up. "We'll have to see about that."

Following Max, Dylan was gone, leaving me staring off behind him. _She'll crush you._

Max

Why me? Iggy has to choose me, of all people to have a crush on. He was one of my best friends in the whole wide world. I sounded like a mega elementary student there, but it was true. I did not want to handle my friendship and my relationships with one hand tied behind my back. I'd rather handle it graciously, like a dove with a broken wing.

Whatever the heck _that _means.

"What are you still doing out in the hall?" Dylan's voice drifted into my ear and I up from my thoughtful downward stare and up into his turquoise eyes. "Not that I want you to leave or anything."

I wasn't getting it. Dylan was supposed to be a jerk. Didn't Iggy and Fang constantly groan and complain about him? He hasn't done much to me so far. Besides being annoying, I had nothing on that boy. SO why was he so bad?

"Oh," I shrugged, "I just had to get out of there." I shoved my thumb towards Iggy's door. "He's my friend and all, but Trig gets boring."

"It does." Dylan agreed. I had a feeling this wasn't what he stopped me in the hall for. I leaned back against the wall as he stepped closer.

"You're pretty cool, Max." He told me, smiling. Wait- was that a smile, or a smirk? My brain was playing tricks on me. Fang and Iggy declared him a freakish man-whore idiot, in not-so-exact words, didn't they? So why was he being so… non-jerk-whorish-like?

"Thanks," I said, itching to slide under the arm he was now propping on one side of me and fleeing down the hall to Fang's room, my comfort zone for all these years. "You're… cool, too."

His perfectly pink lips smirked. Dang it, why did he have the looks of a model? I mean, I've seen cute boys, but this boy was _cute_. Again, I didn't get Fang's weariness about the guy.

"We should talk sometime." Dylan slipped his free hand into his pocket. His eyes flashed over the screen as he typed away in the contacts. "Add your number."

"I don't know…" I mumbled, "Why should I?"

He stared at me for a few seconds. Then, he dropped his arm and backed away. "I don't get you."

"_Get _me?" I asked, feeling my hand that wasn't gripping my Trig book tighten into a fist. "What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

"Why aren't you giving me a chance?" His brows pulled together into a genially thoughtful expression. Fang never had expressions. "I mean, doesn't every guy deserve a chance?"

I thought of that night Fang and I had pillow-talk. He asked me to promise him I wouldn't fall for Dylan. I probably wouldn't- no guy has yet to live up to my standards, which happened to be pretty freaking high. And it was only fair- only _right_- to give this guy a chance, right? It was the Bra Code. Every guy deserved a chance; especially if they were this dang cute.

"Fine," I sighed, snatching his phone. I typed in my number and email. I shoved my phone at him. "One chance, that's it."

His face brightened with color. Still, he had those stupid model looks as he typed excitedly into my contact's list. "Thank you. You won't regret it."

"Don't make me regret it." I told him, starting to walk away. "And don't expect me to text you first, either."

"No problem." Dylan smiled. Dimples showed. I would never win.

**Okay, so I completely LOVE Taylor Swift's new song. I memorized it already... it came out Monday. I'm a loser. :/**

**So I got my puppy! His name is Bentley Miller (insert last name here [maybe Hutcherson]) but I call him Bentley! :) I was kinda mad I couldn't name him Jace after the infamous Jace Wayland, or Iggy or something like that, but that was the only thing I couldn't do. I bought him and everything with my own money but I couldn't name him what I wanted:/ Oh well, Bentley is a cute name! :D**

**Soooo. I know it was kinda short. But this chapter was essential! They WILL go to R2DT! (heh, my friend said something about it sounding like R2d2 hah, not planned.)**

**Playlist for this chapter:**

**Some Nights- fun.**

**Never Ever Getting Back Together- Taylor Swift**

**Good Time- Carly Rae, Owl City**

**One More Night- Maroon 5**

*****************There will be no Max/Iggy, Max/Dylan, Fang/Lissa or Nudge/Iggy (HATE that couple. Like, seriously.) But there MAY be some tiny little makeouts between them because it's all part of the Love Hexagon! This story will end in Fax, to hopefully no one's surprise.******************

**R&R, I'm ready for Fax...**


	7. Chapter 7

_Summary: Maximum "Max" Martinez teaches her best friend Fang how to become the best boyfriend there is to impress Lissa, his longtime crush. But when Max and Fang start to hang out more, will feelings for her spark? And will Max's lessons on how to kiss, touch, dance, and romance make Fang fall for the wrong girl? __And  
what about the weird love hexagon? _AU, Fax

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride, or the characters within the amazing story. James Patterson is the author/owner of the book and characters. I only own the plot for this story!**

**Warning: Characters may be OOC at times. That's just my style- but I try to keep them in-character most of the time, but with an AU story, it's bound to be a bit OOC! **

**PiperElizabethMcLean**

Fang

Chapter 7

"You smell," I wrinkled my nose at the guinea pig that sat on my dashboard. "I hope they bathe you or something."

Spartacus twitched his nose at me, his long whiskers moving in response. His long claws skidded as I backed up out of the parking lot of my apartment.

"I hope you like the radio," I said to him, reaching to turn it up, "We're going to play music."

I drove while Spartacus stared happily at me. We were going to the vet's office, to make sure the thing didn't have fleas or something like that. After learning about the Bubonic Plague in Biology while dissecting a rat, Max had freaked out and made me take the G-Pig to the vet. So I'll look like a complete idiot, taking a rat to the vet.

I've never heard of a freaking guinea pig going to the vet before, but that's Max for you. Insisting the thing needed a "checkup", like it was a freaking child.

When I made it to the vet's office, I swung the door open and grabbed Spartacus. He was a fat one, but I could still hold him with one hand. He squirmed as I closed the door and made sure I had my wallet in my back pocket.

That's when I turned to see red hair pulled into a messy knot, blue scrubs and a wide, chatting mouth. Lissa was waving her arms around in conversation, obviously trying to make a point to a little lady with about seven Chihuahuas in one crate. The lady wore the whole shindig, pearls and that little dress that every little lady seemed to own, with the frills and everything.

I didn't know Lissa worked at the vet's office. She must've been an intern or something, but she wore those scrubs that made her look cute in a way.

"Uh, hey," I stepped forward, rubbing the back of my neck. "What's the problem?"

"Oh," She turned to me, her forehead wrinkled. "Fang, right?"

That just killed me. She had to know my name. We just talked the other day, and she was in every one of my regular classes.

"Of course its Fang," She pressed her palm to her forehead, "I'm sorry it's been a long day."

"Are you going to help me or not?" The little lady demanded, rattling her Chihuahua cage. "I do not have all day; these babies need to go to the doggie spa before seven."

"Hold on, one second," Lissa said, holding her index finger out to me. She took the cage from the lady and pulled it behind the counter, it being too big for her to pick up. I wondered if I could pick it for her, and be like one of those super-strong men who helped damsels in distress. That was ridiculous, though, because Lissa was not a damsel. And she was not in distress. I took a seat in the waiting room instead.

A little boy about six, in coveralls and a blue shirt, swung his feet from the tall chair next to me. His mother read a _People _magazine, wearing her sunglasses on top of her head and completely not paying attention as I sat down.

"Mommy, what is that?" The little boy whispered to his mother. "That thing he's holding?"

I looked down. Spartacus was twitching his nose again.

"What? Jarrett," The woman looked up at me. "I'm sorry." She told me, scooping her boy up and settling him on her lap. "He can get nosey sometimes."

"It's okay," I said, "This is a Guinea pig." I told the boy who she called Jarrett.

"Why is he doing that?" Jarrett gestured to Spartacus's nose. "It's freaky."

"He does that," I shrugged. "He's kind of like a rat."

"No kidding." The mother muttered. "I had one as a kid. That thing stunk."

"Can I have one, Mommy?" The boy's head swiveled to his mother.

"Goodness no," She snapped, her eyes widening. "Don't be ridiculous, Jarrett."

"But Mommy-"

"Hey," I looked up at the voice of Lissa. She seemed out of breath and her hair was a bit messier than before, but it still looked great.

"Mommy, that guy has a beautiful girlfriend," Jarrett whispered urgently at his mother. "Mommy, do you see her?!"

I stood up, ignoring the kid and his mother who was hushing him. I didn't really want to correct him, either. "Hey."

"So," She twirled a piece of thin, random fiery, red hair around her finger. "What's up?"

I chuckled, "Nothing, really. I had to bring my- well, mine and my friend's Guinea pig to the vet. You see, we share him."

"Oh?" Lissa laughed, turning around. "I can check you in if you'd like."

"That'd be great." I followed her to the desk. My brain struggled to remember what Max said about talking to a girl. All I got was, _I'd rather you check me _out_, Lissa_. Yeah, that was not helping much there.

"I hear you're going to R2DT?" Lissa asked, jotting down information onto a clipboard. "I'm so excited. Aren't you? Last year was a blast."

"Oh, yeah," I nodded a bit more enthusiastically than I probably should have. I cleared my throat. "I didn't go last year, though."

"Oh, yeah, really," She asked, "Me either!"

"Why didn't you go?" I asked her as she typed quickly into the computer and passed over the clipboard. I filled in every blank with Spartacus's information.

"Well, my sister's birthday was the next day," Lissa rambled on about princess-themed party while I tried my hardest not to look like a giraffe giving birth. "So, yeah, I had to chaperone and whatever."

I let a tiny smile loose. "One time my friend had a princess birthday party. But she had a complete fit because it wasn't what she wanted."

"Oh, really," Lissa laughed, "That's funny."

It wasn't that funny, but I pretended to chuckle anyways. "Yeah, it's Max's reasoning that I'm here, anyways. She thought Spartacus had the plague. Crazy, right, that's what I thought."

Lissa's smile faltered. "Max?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, shaking my head, "Max Martinez?"

"Her!" Lissa nodded quickly, "Yes, I know Maxine!"

"Maximum Maxine," I laughed, "She absolutely hates it when I call her that."

"Oh!" Lissa's eyes widened, "You two are…"

"No!" I said quickly, realizing. "We're not dating."

"Oh?" She said, "I just thought-"

"No, no, no," I said, shaking my head. I handed her the clipboard back. "I like this other girl."

Lissa's cheeks were dotted with pink. She was blushing. I was making Lissa Grey blush… but not in the good way. Or was it good? This is why I needed Max.

"Well, I wish you luck with that, Fang." She scooped Spartacus up. "You can pick him up later."

"Okay," I said, turning away. "Bye, Lissa."

She waved as I was leaving, but she wasn't smiling too much.

/\/\AXI/\/\U/\/\

"You did _what_?!" Max demanded, her bun wobbling on top of her head. We were in the old school bus, chartering to R2DT. I hadn't seen Lissa around; she must've been on the other bus. "Fang, please tell me you didn't."

I thought back to yesterday. "What's wrong with saying I liked another girl?"

"You dumb butt," She pressed the butt of her palm into her forehead, "That's _so _elementary!"

"What?" I was astonished.

"Honestly, Fang," Iggy was on the other side of Max, his cheek pressed against the rattling window. Max's legs were in his lap, her head in my lap, looking up at me. "That is, like, just so elementary."

"Now he sounds like some kind of drama queen," Max sat up, swinging her legs off Iggy. He looked saddened for a second, but wiped the expression off his face faster than I thought he could. "But seriously. Fang, if you want me to help you out, you have to follow my instructions."

"I did," I insisted, "I did the facial crap."

"Facial expression," She corrected, "And anyways, you weren't supposed to say that. Now we have to take a whole different route. The 'middle school' route, as I like to call it."

"Hey!" I protested, "I use that route! Shut that mouth."

"Hay is for horses, but grass is much cheaper, darling." Max tapped my jaw.

"Don't call me darling," I rolled my eyes.

"Sweetie pumpkin," Max chirped.

"That either."

"Shortcake McMuffin," I could see her holding in laughter. We were driving Iggy crazy.

"You're the shortcake," I told her, "I'm taller than you."

"That is so not true," Max protested, "Iggy! Tell him I'm not short."

"She's not short," Iggy barely looked up from his phone.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. Iggy was probably being a stereotypical girl and texting me from two seats over. "You're shorter than me. Therefore, you are short."

"Shut up," She turned to Iggy. "What are you doing, anyways?"

"Texting," He waved his iPhone around. "Isn't that what it looks like?"

"Actually," Max's tone turned to the one she used when she was mad about sarcasm, "It looked like you were awkwardly staring at your phone."

"Lay off," Iggy grumbled, "I'm tired, okay?"

"So you're _not _texting?" One of her eyebrows rose.

"I am!" He insisted.

"Uh-huh," Max rolled her eyes and held out her hand. "Give me your phone."

"No." He said, shielding his phone from her.

"You two are such kids," I rolled my eyes, slipping my own phone out of my pocket.

**Dude, she could totally call me those names. If we were dating… but we aren't. ):**

I snickered. Iggy was screwed if Max got his phone and read his messages. No wonder he wasn't letting up; usually he lets Max have whatever she wanted.

"You can't have it," He told her. Iggy lifted up and sat on his phone. "Ha!"

"I'll still get it," Max's face was gravely serious. I knew she would seriously dive for that phone if she wanted it. "Try me."

Iggy's face turned a shade of red. "Er, Max-"

But it was too late; she was already shoving her hand under my twin's jeans. Iggy popped up, startled. Apparently he didn't know her like I did.

"Max, no!"

"You have a freaking password," She groaned.

"Four numbers," I laughed, "Not that hard if you think about how the numbers can spell something."

Max thought a second. "I give up." She shoved the phone at Iggy. "I have to pee, anyways."

She got up and slid past me, padding down to the bathroom at the back of the bus. Iggy looked at me, his eyebrows way up.

"She was so close," He breathed, "She could've read them, Fang!"

"Chill, Igs," I leaned back into the seat, "I wouldn't of let her."

"Really," He breathed out. "Thanks, bro."

"No problem," I turned away, looking down the aisle. I could've sworn I had seen a flash of red on our bus.

**Okay, so I know this was short. But I'm only two hundred words away from 2,000 so I think it'll be okay. They're on their way to R2DT, and Fang talked to Lissa. The story is progressing:)**

**R&R, I kind of feel bad for Iggy...**


	8. Chapter 8

_Summary: Maximum "Max" Martinez teaches her best friend Fang how to become the best boyfriend there is to impress Lissa, his longtime crush. But when Max and Fang start to hang out more, will feelings for her spark? And will Max's lessons on how to kiss, touch, dance, and romance make Fang fall for the wrong girl? __And  
what about the weird love hexagon? _AU, Fax

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride, or the characters within the amazing story. James Patterson is the author/owner of the book and characters. I only own the plot for this story!**

**Warning: Characters may be OOC at times. That's just my style- but I try to keep them in-character most of the time, but with an AU story, it's bound to be a bit OOC! **

**PiperElizabethMcLean**

Max

Chapter 8

I came back from the bathroom to see Iggy rubbing fiercely at his eyes in his seat. The sun behind him in the window made his hair even blonder, the shadows around his eyes shown more.

"Are you crying?" I asked him suspiciously, sitting in my own seat.

"What?" His hand dropped to reveal red eyes. "No. I just have something in my eye."

I snorted, "Yeah, _tears. _What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Iggy insisted.

"Where's Fang?" I dropped the subject. "He's not here."

Iggy shrugged, "I don't know. He left." He waved his hand forward. I ducked my head into the aisle to see if I could spot his familiar form and shape.

"I don't see him," I reported, focusing my gaze back on Iggy. "He's not out there."

"I don't know what to tell you. We're stopping in thirty minutes for a bathroom break. We'll find him then." Iggy said. Then, biting his lip, "Can we talk?"

I sighed. I guess we'd have to talk sooner or later, anyway. It wasn't my choice, either, to have this talk; If I wanted this talk with another guy, I'd get it, wouldn't I? So why try and stop Iggy from having his moment? "Talk about what?" I said, as if I didn't already know.

"Every time I've tried to bring it up, someone has interrupted," Iggy began. I scooted closer to hear him. I hoped it gave him confidence. "So, here it goes."

Iggy's fingers were long and awkward as they folded over my hand. His palm pressed to mine, bigger and wider. It felt weird, but I pushed the thought away. Nobody's hand was supposed to be the perfect match for mine, right? There were seven billion people in the world; I seriously doubted I'd find my "soul mate", or "perfect match" right off, as a teen. If I even had a "perfect match", or a "soul mate".

The feel of our hands pressed together must have given him confidence, because he started up again. "I've known you forever. You've been the most amazing person I've ever known."

It sounded like a break up speech, but I urged him on with the squeeze of a hand. This was my friend, and I owed it to him. I tried not to visibly wince at it.

"I know it doesn't sound like I have a point," He continued, looking down at our hands. "What am I doing, anyways?" He turned to me suddenly.

"Telling me something you've been thinking of for a while," I tried not to squirm under his gaze.

"I _meant_, why can't I just come out and _say it_?" He sounded frustrated. "Max, this isn't easy."

"Tell me," I tried to coax him. I knew he wanted this over with. "I'll make it easy for you."

"Nothing could make this easy," He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. He breathed out slowly, and then his eyes connected with mine, those light, blue eyes that were nothing like his twin's dark, dark obsidian ones. "I think I'm in love with you."

It was different than I thought it would be. How I pictured it in my mind, Iggy would try to kiss me before telling me. Or, he'd explain a long and boring story about him being in love for ages, and when exactly he fell in love. Not that these things wouldn't be special, but it's what I expected. The way he told me, though… it was more random and unexpected than ever. And I had a rush of guilt. Because all this time, in my mind, I was prepared to turn him down. Walk away. But the way he looked at me now, with his sad, hopeful, blue eyes and readiness to loosen his hand, it seemed that he, too, expected it. And who would I be not to give him a chance? Because wouldn't I feel the same way if I was in love with someone? Craving, hoping for that one chance, and then having it ripped from me before I could even grasp it?

"Please respond," His voice drifted into my thoughts. "Max?"

"Iggy," I swallowed a dry breath, "I don't know."

"You don't know?" His hand loosened slightly, but I gripped it again to gain confidence again, this time for myself rather than for him.

"We could try it," I said, the words spilling from my mouth. Who was I to take away his chance? "I'll give it a try."

"Give it a try," Iggy repeated, hope entering his gaze again. And suddenly I was being pulled into a hug, my shoulders against his and his lips on my forehead, me in his lap. "Thank you, Max! You won't regret this."

I pulled back to get a look at his face. "But you have to understand," I pushed my bangs back, "We're just testing the waters. If it works, then we'll move forward."

If it doesn't… what if it didn't work? Would we still be the same friends? Would I be able to sleep in the same bed as him? Have my weird, quirky 'effed-up-Fridays? What about the Instagram Throwback-Thursdays? How would I be able to post a picture of one of our memories on Instagram without thinking about our screwed over, failure of a relationship? A part of me wanted this to work, just so I wouldn't have to deal with these things.

He nodded and his fingers came up to my cheek. His touch was light, cold. His fingers were soft, and sent a breezy, October-like chill through me. I realized he was twirling a piece of hair around his index finger. Finally, he pushed my bangs back. They fell perfectly behind my ear. I could never do that myself, so how could he?

"Later," He said while his fingers around my hand circling to form nonexistent and incomprehensible letters and maybe shapes. "We'll talk."

And the bus slowed to a stop in front of a trucker's station while everyone filed out of the bus. I started to look for Fang as Iggy smiled behind me, his hands shoved into his pockets.

Fang

"So they let you bathe the puppies at the shelter?" I asked Lissa as we walked down an aisle in the small trucker's station. She wore these jeans that I happened to be a fan of, and a regular old hoodie. There were several "Monster" sized bags of chips, drinks and Twinkies for sale up and down the rows. I spotted ding-dongs and oatmeal cookies on the junk food section M&Ms and Snickers on the candy one.

"Oh, yeah," Lissa giggled, hands flying to her jean pockets. "Let me show you a picture of this one little doggie I washed…"

As she fished around for her cell phone, I thought about asking her for her number again. I swallowed in thought. I hadn't asked Max if I should or not, yet, though. What if the result was a failure again? Then what? She'd probably say her lessons were a waste if I didn't do them right. I decided to wing it.

"This is him," She gushed, showing me a picture on her phone of a soaking wet, whining puppy that looked more like a rat. "His name is Princeton. He's a Yorkie, supposedly the Mayor's daughter's puppy."

"Wow," I commented, "He looks like a rat."

Lissa snorted in laughter, giggles escaping from her mouth. She knelt over, using her knees for support as she laughed. "H-his owner s-spoils him, s-she'd throw an f-fit if she heard that!" I smiled slightly. I made her laugh.

I found myself chuckling as I slid to the next picture out of curiosity. It was a picture of Lissa holding a small turtle, making a face at the camera. It seemed like she was at an aquarium. The next picture was of her posing with a boy, taller than she was I wondered who he was.

"Are you looking at my pictures?" Lissa asked, straightening up and wiping under her eyes with her index finger.

"Oh," I held the phone out to her, "I didn't mean- I'm sorry. Here, take it…"

"No, it is okay," She waved her hand, "I'm cool with it."

"Oh?" I looked back down at her phone at the picture. "Who's this?"

"Dillon?" Lissa smiled down at the picture. "That's my ex-boyfriend. He worked at the shelter when we dated."

"Ex," I questioned, "Why'd you two break it off?" I tried not to sound nosey.

"He moved to a college in a different state," She shrugged. "He wasn't much of a keeper, anyway."

"He looks older than a high school guy," I observed. I wondered why he wasn't much of a "keeper".

"In that picture he was in his freshman year of college. He's a sophomore now."

I handed her phone back to her. "Why did you keep the picture?"

"It wasn't a messy breakup," Lissa told me. "We're still friends."

"I don't usually keep pictures of my ex-girlfriends." I told her.

"Really," She asked, "How many have you had?"

"Like," I rubbed the back of my neck in thought, "Two?"

"Two?" She asked, "Two serious girlfriends?"

"Hey!" I laughed, "Don't make fun. I'm not good with girls."

Lissa stepped forward to meet me, her face to my shoulders. I had to look down at her. "_I_ think you're great with girls."

"Can I have your number?" I asked her, averting my eyes from her face to the phone she held in her hand. "I asked you once before, but…"

Her brows furrowed, making the tiny freckles on her nose wrinkle a bit. "I'm sorry, I must have forgotten that." Her lie was easily said, like it was true. I could've believed it. "Here, put yours in my phone."

I typed in my number as she browsed through the drinks. I handed her phone back to her.

"I'll call you later so you'll have mine." Lissa smiled up at me.

"Okay," I tried to smile back, but I spotted Max and Iggy coming up behind her.

"There you are!" Max said, stepping around Lissa. She backed up, her eyebrows rising.

"Here I am," I cocked an eyebrow at her.

"I couldn't find you on the bus," She said. "You didn't tell me you were leaving."

"I went to find Lissa," I said, holding my hand out to the redhead, as if to prove it. Lissa waved at Max.

"The bus leaving in two minutes," Iggy checked his watch. "Do you want something, Max?"

"I'm fine," She told him.

"I should get going," Lissa slid past me. "Talk to you later, Fang."

"Bye," Max called after her. She didn't turn around as she hurried down the aisle.

"What's her problem?" Iggy asked.

I shrugged, "She was perfectly fine before you two got here."

Max crossed her arms and glared at me. "It's not our fault, if that's what you're insinuating."

"I'm not insinuating anything," I raised my palms in alarm, as if to surrender.

"Well," She pursed her lips. "What did you accomplish?"

"I got her number," I smiled proudly.

"You did?" Iggy asked.

"Well," I felt my smile falter, "She got mine, but because I brought it up. I put it in her phone."

"What did she say?" Max asked.

"She said she'd call me later so I could have hers." I said, moving down the aisle.

"I guess you did okay," She said, un-crossing her arms.

"Max?" I asked as we opened the door and headed back to the bus. "When is 'later'?"

"I don't know," She shrugged. Iggy peered at me through his blonde bangs. He flipped them out of the way to see well. "Whenever she feels like it?"

"What did you two do while I was gone?" I asked.

Max looked away, and Iggy's mouth quirked into a smile.

"Nothing much," He said. I got the feeling they weren't telling me something as we loaded back onto the bus, Max taking the middle seat again and resuming her position. Except this time, her head was in Iggy's lap, and her feet in mine.

**I'm going to repeat this, once again. THERE WILL BE NO SERIOUS MIGGY, but you guys have to put up with this for a few more chapters. A love hexagon is forming, and even if you guys don't know who the "mystery" missing person is, you'll find out soon enough. There have been many guesses. But you don't have to guess for a while who the sixth person is, it's not that big of a deal. But I'll help y'all out.**

**Iggy**

**Dylan**

**Max**

**Fang**

**Lissa**

**?**

**The missing person will have to be "secret" for a while longer. I never really intended for it to be secret, but whatever:)**

**I've been making cake, cupcakes and icing all day. Jell-o dessert later. Ugh. I smell like a bakery...**

**R&R, I wonder who will play Fang in the movie...**


	9. Chapter 9

_Summary: Maximum "Max" Martinez teaches her best friend Fang how to become the best boyfriend there is to impress Lissa, his longtime crush. But when Max and Fang start to hang out more, will feelings for her spark? And will Max's lessons on how to kiss, touch, dance, and romance make Fang fall for the wrong girl? __And  
what about the weird love hexagon? _AU, Fax

**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride, or the characters within the amazing story. James Patterson is the author/owner of the book and characters. I only own the plot for this story!**

**Warning: Characters may be OOC at times. That's just my style- but I try to keep them in-character most of the time, but with an AU story, it's bound to be a bit OOC! **

**PiperElizabethMcLean**

Max

Chapter 9

The walls felt like they were thumping with music as we entered the already-trashed frat house. It seemed like Katy Perry, Drake and Eminem all played at one time. Red Solo cups were everywhere, candy wrappers and crushed beer cans, streams of toilet paper and streamers were easily pointed out by Fang. It looked like glitter was dumped on the floor in random places, and when you looked up you could see random painted-on footprints. I loved it.

"Isn't this awesome?" I shouted to Fang and Iggy as we stepped over the broken piece of couch blocking the doorway. Iggy looked at me strangely, but Fang was already holding his hand out to help me jump off the couch's headboard. I used to live for parties like this.

"Do you see anybody you know?" Iggy's voice was in my ear. I analyzed his outfit. I didn't notice earlier that he wore a plain blue button down and jeans. I was glad he went with the casual look and pushed back his sleeves.

"Not yet," I said loudly. I started to push through the grinding girls and goofy-grinned guys. One girl started to latch onto Fang immediately. He shoved her aside impatiently. The girl, wearing a striped, way-too-short dress scurried off, a pouty look on her face. It vanished as she started rubbing up on a guy in the middle of the floor.

"MAX!" Someone's voice boomed over the large crowd. Nobody turned to see who was being so loud. I searched for the voice.

"Maxine!" Two strong, huge arms were around my waist all of a sudden, grabbing my hips and spinning me around. His grip was solid, and it started to hurt my hip bones. I squirmed loose from the grip.

"Who the h-," I began, feeling my face get red as my tongue snapped, "ARI! It's you!"

His arms weren't the only things huge and strong. It looked like his whole body was swollen up, besides his waist and knees down. The guy wore khaki draw-strong shorts and wore absolutely no shirt. I could tell right away he was tipsy, not yet drunk and he would have never grabbed me like that on a regular basis. He had a nice set of abs, which is probably why so many girls analyzed him from every corner of the room. Taking that back; his face was sort of cute, too. His nose was widespread and his eyes were almond shaped brown discs.

"It's me!" He spread his arms out wide, "What's up chick?" He grinned, placing the red Solo cup he held down on the windowsill we stood by. I could make out several scrawled numbers in sharpie on the cup's glossy surface. I knew he never planned on giving the numbers a second thought. Ari's grin stretched across to each cheek, shining white teeth showing from under his puffy lips.

"Oh, you know, the usual," I laughed. "Ari, this is Fang and Iggy."

Iggy had a scowling look on his face as they shook hands, backing up to let Fang move in to do the shaking after him.

"How's life in town?" I asked him, "Any different from last time I saw you?"

"This summer was a blur," He ruffled up his hair, "But I think Dad finally understands that I'm my own person, y'know? I think he's finally begun to except me as me."

"That's great," I said. "Fang, Iggy, I met Ari last year at R2DT… I think it was at the drink table, wasn't it?"

"Exactly," He laughed, "You thought I was hitting on you."

I grimaced, "How many times do I have to apologize for that? Your nose stopped bleeding after twenty minutes."

"She punched me in the face," Ari laughed, explaining to the boys, "We had to go to the emergency room… thought it was broken."

"Dang," Fang laughed, "That's my girl."

Ari's eyebrows rose. "This is your boyfriend?"

"No!" I said, "He's like my brother. He taught me how to punch, though."

"Whoa," Ari whistled low, "I wouldn't wanna fight you, then."

Fang shrugged uncomfortably. Iggy pretended to cough. "Uh, I'm going to check out the drinks… want anything, Max?"

"No thanks, Igs." I said, "I'm going to catch up with Ari."

Both boys seemed hesitant to leave me alone with the stranger to them, but eventually they both walked off in different directions.

"The tall dark dude," Ari began, "Is Fang? You told me about him before…"

"Yeah, that's Fang," I said, rubbing my palms on my jean-clad legs. "He's… well, he's awesome. He's my best friend."

"And the quiet light one," He asked, "That's Iggy?"

"Yep," I breathed out, "Iggy."

"Uh-oh, is there drama there?" Ari had a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Do tell."

"Iggy sort of likes me," I sighed.

"I could tell," He laughed, "The way he looked at me when I grabbed you up?" Ari laughed. It was a deep, rumbling sound. "Like he was going to jump me and beat the mess out of me."

"Gosh," I shook my head, "Yeah… I kind of promised him I'd give him a chance, you know?"

"Do you want to give him a chance?"

"Kind of," I said, thinking about it, "I just don't want him to not be happy, y'know?"

"By making him happy, you'll just make yourself _un_happy, Max."

"Maybe it'll work out," I said, "Hopefully it will, I mean."

"You can't force yourself to like somebody…" Ari said uncertainly. I noticed a girl with long, curly red hair watching us from across the room. "It doesn't work that way."

I shrugged, "I don't know."

"Well, maybe you'll find something that'll work. But for your own sake, let him down easy when you do. It'll just come right back at you if you don't."

"_Why _does everyone _think _that?" I demanded. I felt like stomping my foot. So I did. "What if I don't _have _to let him down easy? What if I really do end up liking him?"

Ari seemed amused by my fit of anger, especially the stomping of my foot. "Then you end up liking him." He shrugged.

Redhead was right behind Ari when I first noticed her walking up. I opened my mouth to say something, but she was too fast. She had her hand on his shoulder before I could blink twice.

"Hey," She said with her voice light and soothing, "I'm Sydney."

"Hi, Sydney," Ari said, turning to face her. "What's up?"

"I was wondering…" She looked over his shoulder at me before turning back, "Are you single?"

"Yep," Ari grinned. "Where do you go to school?"

She waved off his question, almost like a teacher would after hearing a student's silly question, "Wanna meet me upstairs in ten minutes?"

His shoulders stiffened. "Excuse me?"

"Upstairs," Sydney's hand curled around his shoulder. "With me, in ten minutes..?"

"I heard you the first time," Ari's voice was disgusted. She seemed to catch on to his rejection.

"Go put on a shirt," She hissed, turning away from him.

Ari ignored her, turning back around to me, his eyes wide, as if he was saying, _Can you believe that just happened?_

"Wow," I snorted, "She's… hot."

"Ugh," He pretended to dust off his shoulder.

"Now, Ari," I giggled, "Tell me you wouldn't hit that."

"Yeah, with my truck, maybe," He rolled his eyes. "Besides, Max, it's 'tap that'."

"Whatever," I said.

"Well, your little friend is waiting over there," Ari said, "I'll have to catch up with you later."

"Okay," I said. I hugged him. "Good luck with your dad."

"He'll come around." Ari promised.

I found my way through the grinders and drinkers to find Iggy. Fang, like Ari said, had been watching from a stoop on the stairs. I wondered if he didn't trust me… or Ari.

"Fang, where's Iggy?" I shouted to him.

"He left," He called back. He was still searching the crowd. I realized he was looking for Lissa.

"Want a drink?" I called to him.

"Sure," He shrugged. I made my way to the drinks table.

Two kegs sat side-by-side, and several guys did shots in the corner of the room adjoining to the walk-in of the house, where I talked to Ari. I looked around for a cup.

"Want a cup?" A dude said next to the keg.

"Yeah," I answered, "Where are they?"

"You have to pay ten bucks for the first cup."

"No thanks," I said, turning away. Fang would have to do without.

Sometimes, at parties like this, people would go up to the kegs and steal the cups, hoping to make money by selling them. And most of the time the sellers didn't even host the party.

"Wait a minute," The guy called back to me. "Come back."

I turned around, annoyed. "What?"

"I'll give you a discount because you're hot. Three bucks,"

"No," I said, turning away again. But I still rummaged through my pockets in hopes of finding a few crumbled up dollars. Pulling out two, I turned around again. But the guy wasn't there. He was rolling on the ground, clearly in a good fight with a much bigger guy. I rushed to grab two of the cups he abandoned by the table.

Sipping on a fuzzy drink, I made my way back to Fang. I sat on the stairs… but he was missing.

He must have found Lissa. I still drank my drink as I thought about what moves he'd make on her. Would he flirt right? Would he put his arm around her? Would she grind on him?

While I thought all these thoughts, I found myself at the bottom of my cup. Why was I drinking so much? I never drank more than a few sips of alcohol. But some weird part of me was begging me to drink the second cup, too.

And my lips were on the rim of the second cup before I could really understand why. I started tipping my heat back with every gulp. Too soon I was out. I started to stumble down the stairs in an effort to make it back to the keg.

But my foot wobbled from under me, and I started to fall. People gasped and watched as I slid down the stairs, banging my head on the stair behind me, and hitting my bottom along with it.

I could feel my face heat up as I stood. I ignored the people asking me if I needed help, and the people who laughed.

When I got back to the keg, I pumped more into my cup. I decided there wasn't enough in the first one, so I filled the second one again, too.

After debating whether or not I should go back up the stairs, I ended up just sitting on the floor by the keg. The wrestling dude wasn't there anymore. I drank by myself, filling up as soon as both cups were empty.

Iggy

I can't believe she just sat there and ditched me for that Ari dude. Okay, he was big, but that didn't mean she had to ditch me. She could have introduced me better…

And the dude thought Fang was her boyfriend. Everyone always assumes Fang and Max are dating. But nobody _ever_ assumes I'm her boyfriend. I grumbled to myself, waiting out on the stairs of the house. Fang and Lissa had come out earlier, laughing and talking, his arm around her as she giggled. It seemed like he was getting good at the flirting thing.

I pushed the home button on my phone. The light turned on, blinding me momentarily. As my eyes adjusted, the door to the house banged open. I figured it was just another guy hauling a drunken girl out to his or her car. Or maybe just to the lawn, like a few others had done before the host ran out with a water gun, his friends carrying a water hose.

But this time it wasn't a guy. It was the familiar shape of Max, stumbling with a cup in hand. She seemed to be babbling to herself.

"Fang," She chatted, her eyes red, "Fang, she'll never date you. Don't you know she's not right for you?"

"Max," I jumped up. "What are you doing?"

She squinted at me, "Iggy, where's Fang?" She slurred.

"Are you _drunk_?"

"He's making a mistake. I have to tell him," Max burped, covering her mouth with her hand. "She does not gonna be the right… one…"

"You're not making any sense," I told her, "Come on. We have to get you back to your room."

"Iggy," She pleaded, "He's not doing it right."

I knew not to say anything, or listen to her when she was drunk. She rarely got drunk, and when she did, she wasn't one to trust.

I put my arm around her waist, gently tugging her toward the way to the dorms we were staying in. We walked, and I only had to pick her up four times after she fell.

"You didn't dance." Max said. It was supposed to be a question, but it sounded more like a statement.

"Nope," I answered.

"Why didn't you?" She demanded.

"I didn't have anybody to dance with."

"You could have danced with me!" She grumbled.

"You were talking."

"Let's dance here," She insisted, throwing her arms around my neck.

"Max, we're in the middle of a walk-way." I pointed out. "And you're drunk."

"Dance with me," She whined, "I'm not drunk. Pretty please dance with me!"

"No," I told her. A part of me wanted to let her throw her arms around me, and I would place my own around her waist. I imagined us swaying to a non-audible tune in the dark, on the street. But that didn't happen in real life. That kind of stuff only happened in books and movies.

We made it to the dorms, Max babbling about someone's dad. I pulled her dorm room opened, using the key I found in her back pocket.

"I won't let you down easy," She told me, looking at me sincerely. "I promise."

"Okay," I told her, not even understanding, "Get in bed, Max."

"No! Listen to me!" Her voice slurred again. "Iggy, I want to give you…"

"What?"

"I want to give you."

"Huh?"

"I want you!" She stomped her foot. She winced and threw the boot she was wearing onto the floor. "I won't let you down easy."

I didn't understand her. Well, I understood perfectly, but it didn't go together well. She wanted me? She won't let me down easy? What does that even mean? I mean, obviously she was telling me she _wanted _me… and oh, gosh, words can't even describe the feelings I was having about that. Maximum Ride… wanted me.

"Iggy, I want you." She said, leveling her eyes with mine. She sat on her bed, trying to tug her shoe off her other foot. I walked over to help her unzip it.

As I slid the shoe off her foot, she wrapped one arm around me, the other playing with my hair. I ignored her, but my stomach fluttered nervously. What was she doing?

I really wished she wasn't drunk. I wished she was telling me this sober, and she meant it. But it was hard to resist her, sitting there begging me to kiss her. She repeatedly whispered the same words in my ear, pulling my closer by the collar of my shirt.

"Iggy," She whimpered, "Are you going to kiss me or not?"

I watched her eyes. They seemed sad. So did she mean it? Was she breaking through the drunken barrier to speak to me? Okay, that just sounded extremely stupid.

"If you don't kiss me," Max threatened, "I'll just kiss _you_"

I wanted that. I wanted that _so bad_. I dream about kissing her. I dream about these kinds of moments… except we're both sober. What if she regrets everything after her hangover? What if she never talks to me again?

Then again, what if it goes right? What if she enjoys herself so much, realizes that she belongs with me, and we finally get together?

I decided that the latter was the better option. And she would probably never ask me to kiss her again. I wouldn't get another chance like this.

I pressed my lips to hers.

**_Sorry for the delay._**

**R&R**


	10. Chapter 10

Guys. I'm really starting to doubt my "talent" for writing. I'm an awful updater, writer and my imagination sucks. I can't an won't ever be able to publish a book, and I completely suck at grammar. Why even try to continue?

I've been thinking for quite some time now that I should quit Fanfiction. I've gotten many awful reviews telling me how bad of a writer I am. I don't deserve as many reviews I've gotten, they say. They even say I'm put on a pedestal for crappy writing. I completely understand now. I'm not good enough.

So I'm going to delete my account and all the stories on here. The only thing I regret is that those very very few of you that do actually enjoy my fics won't get to finish them. And I'm sorry about it. I know I've said before that I was going to delete them, but now... Now it's going to happen. There will be no more PiperElizabethMcLean.

Thank you. That is all. Have a wonderful PEM-less life...

APRIL FOOLS! Y'all couldn't get me to delete my account even if you tried! Writing is my life. Aha, don't kill me for this.


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